John C. Arendes 03-31-2025
A friend of mine once told me about a man who could talk to a tree—and the tree would probably talk back.I thought he was joking.
But after talking to Joanne and Gabriella, I now know that man existed.His name was John Arendes.
John had a way of connecting with everyone—and everything. People, animals, trees… even birds, if you ask Gabriella. He didn’t just walk through life; he engaged it. He met it head-on—with warmth, curiosity, and that unmistakable twinkle in his eye.
Some people light up a room when they walk in.Some light it up when they walk out.John lit it up when he walked in—and now that he’s gone, the room feels dimmer.
Not just this room, but the whole room of life—the places where he showed up, checked in, made you laugh, got things done, and left you feeling like you mattered.
There’s a story Gabriella told me that says it all. Her dad once went on a business trip and decided to join a much younger colleague for a boot camp workout. John was in good shape—he was training for a triathlon at the time—but let’s just say, the next day, he was sore. Limping. Stiff.
And all he said was: “That was some workout.”
Translation: “I wasn’t about to let her win.”
That was John—competitive, determined, and absolutely unwilling to let age—or anyone—slow him down. Not in the gym. Not in life. Not in love. Not even in laughter.
And that’s why we’re here today. Not just because John died. But because he lived. And what a life it was.
He was the rock of his family. The glue. The planner. The connector. The “let’s get everyone together” guy. The “I know a guy who can fix that” guy. The “You hungry? Good—sit down, I’ll cook” guy.
He was the one who called, texted, remembered, followed up, showed up—and stayed present.
John didn’t collect people—he cherished them. Family, friends, coworkers, teammates, cashiers, janitors, CEOs, even the UPS guy—everyone had a place in his orbit. And if he talked to a tree? That tree probably left feeling better about itself.
That’s who he was.
Jesus says in today’s Gospel:
“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house, there are many rooms… I go to prepare a place for you.”
I don’t know what John’s room in heaven looks like, but I’d bet good money it comes with a grill out back, orange sneakers at the door, mismatched floral shirts in the closet, and a table big enough to feed a neighborhood.
Because that’s how he lived: as a host. A bringer of people together. And a darn good cook. Steaks, short ribs, ravioli, chicken cutlets, jambalaya—he didn’t just feed people. He nourished them.
There’s a story about him feeding a dorm full of college kids for three straight days. That’s not just a meal. That’s a miracle.
But more than what he made in the kitchen was what he made in people’s lives.
John was a mentor. A motivator. A believer in others.
Gabriella told me he believed in you even when you didn’t believe in yourself. And if you doubted it? He’d let you know—passionately, loudly, lovingly. Then he’d probably send you a coffee mug that said, “You have the best dad.” And follow it with, “You’re welcome.”
That was John. He didn’t need a reason to help you. If you were in his heart, that was reason enough.
And if you were in his heart, you stayed there.
He called Joanne and Gabriella every single day.Not out of habit. Out of love. Because you were his world. Because he wanted to.
And Joanne, he loved being your partner. You finished each other’s sentences, shared each other’s jokes, and built a life filled with orchids, laughter, strong opinions, and deep devotion.
Gabriella, you made him proud every single day. You knew he was in your corner. And guess what? He still is.
You’ve already felt it—the signs. The bird that wouldn’t stop squawking. The flight number that matched his birthday. The job opportunities that fell into place. That’s him.
It’s no small thing that John passed away on March 25th—the Feast of the Annunciation. The day heaven touched earth. The day God sent a message to Mary: “Your life is about to change—but I will be with you through it all.”
And I believe that’s the message John sends to you today:“Your life has changed—but I’m still with you.”
Not in the same way. But in the signs. In the laughter. In the memories. In the quiet strength he taught you.
Now, let’s be real—John didn’t always make it to church on Sunday. But faith? Faith was growing in him. In recent years, he found peace listening to the Psalms at night. He was drawn to the stories of Paul. He believed in signs. He believed in God. And he believed in the people God gave him.
That’s the Way of Jesus. Not always perfect. But full of heart.
Jesus said:
“I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.”
John followed that Way—not with polish, but with passion.Not with pretense, but with presence.Not by sitting in pews every Sunday—but by showing up in people’s lives every single day.
That’s holiness too.
So yes, today we mourn. But more than that, we give thanks.
We thank God for John Arendes.
For the father who answered every call, attended every game, and bragged about his daughter to anyone who’d listen.
For the husband who made you laugh, made you think, and made every moment matter.
For the friend who fixed your Wi-Fi, unclogged your sink, brought the perfect gift, and left your heart a little lighter.
For the man who made strangers feel like family—and family feel like royalty.
We thank God for the signs that tell us he’s still close.
And we thank God for preparing a place for him—a place of joy, reunion, healing, and peace.
And one day, if we keep walking the Way of Jesus—with love, with faith, with hope—we’ll see him again.
And when we do? I guarantee he’ll already be at the grill.Flipping steaks. Cracking jokes. Pouring wine.And saying, “You’re just in time. Pull up a chair.”
Until then, we carry his legacy forward.
We call each other more.We gather around the table.We fix what’s broken.We talk to strangers—and maybe even the trees.And most of all, we love as he loved——with our whole heart, every single day.
May John rest in peace.May his memory be a blessing.And may we never forget—he’s not just part of our past.He’s part of our future too. Prayer of Commendation and Gratitude
Into your hands, O Lord of life and love,we commend your servant, John C. Arendes.
We thank you for the gift of his life—for his generous heart, quick wit, strong convictions, and joyful spirit.He lived fully, laughed freely, and loved deeply.He welcomed the stranger, showed up for family,and somehow made every room feel warmer—even when he was just passing through.
Thank you, Lord, for the meals he cooked, the burdens he lifted,the stories he shared, and the care he gave without hesitation.
Now receive him into the place you have prepared—a place of peace, of reunion, of unending joy.Grant him rest after a life poured out in love.
Comfort those who mourn, especially Joanne and Gabriella.Let them find strength in the love he gave and the legacy he leaves.
And as we return to our lives, may we carry something of John with us:his kindness, his courage, his ability to make people feel seen and loved.
And when our own journey is done,bring us all together at your table in heaven,where we will see him again and know the fullness of your joy.
We ask this through Christ our Lord.
All: Amen.
But after talking to Joanne and Gabriella, I now know that man existed.His name was John Arendes.
John had a way of connecting with everyone—and everything. People, animals, trees… even birds, if you ask Gabriella. He didn’t just walk through life; he engaged it. He met it head-on—with warmth, curiosity, and that unmistakable twinkle in his eye.
Some people light up a room when they walk in.Some light it up when they walk out.John lit it up when he walked in—and now that he’s gone, the room feels dimmer.
Not just this room, but the whole room of life—the places where he showed up, checked in, made you laugh, got things done, and left you feeling like you mattered.
There’s a story Gabriella told me that says it all. Her dad once went on a business trip and decided to join a much younger colleague for a boot camp workout. John was in good shape—he was training for a triathlon at the time—but let’s just say, the next day, he was sore. Limping. Stiff.
And all he said was: “That was some workout.”
Translation: “I wasn’t about to let her win.”
That was John—competitive, determined, and absolutely unwilling to let age—or anyone—slow him down. Not in the gym. Not in life. Not in love. Not even in laughter.
And that’s why we’re here today. Not just because John died. But because he lived. And what a life it was.
He was the rock of his family. The glue. The planner. The connector. The “let’s get everyone together” guy. The “I know a guy who can fix that” guy. The “You hungry? Good—sit down, I’ll cook” guy.
He was the one who called, texted, remembered, followed up, showed up—and stayed present.
John didn’t collect people—he cherished them. Family, friends, coworkers, teammates, cashiers, janitors, CEOs, even the UPS guy—everyone had a place in his orbit. And if he talked to a tree? That tree probably left feeling better about itself.
That’s who he was.
Jesus says in today’s Gospel:
“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house, there are many rooms… I go to prepare a place for you.”
I don’t know what John’s room in heaven looks like, but I’d bet good money it comes with a grill out back, orange sneakers at the door, mismatched floral shirts in the closet, and a table big enough to feed a neighborhood.
Because that’s how he lived: as a host. A bringer of people together. And a darn good cook. Steaks, short ribs, ravioli, chicken cutlets, jambalaya—he didn’t just feed people. He nourished them.
There’s a story about him feeding a dorm full of college kids for three straight days. That’s not just a meal. That’s a miracle.
But more than what he made in the kitchen was what he made in people’s lives.
John was a mentor. A motivator. A believer in others.
Gabriella told me he believed in you even when you didn’t believe in yourself. And if you doubted it? He’d let you know—passionately, loudly, lovingly. Then he’d probably send you a coffee mug that said, “You have the best dad.” And follow it with, “You’re welcome.”
That was John. He didn’t need a reason to help you. If you were in his heart, that was reason enough.
And if you were in his heart, you stayed there.
He called Joanne and Gabriella every single day.Not out of habit. Out of love. Because you were his world. Because he wanted to.
And Joanne, he loved being your partner. You finished each other’s sentences, shared each other’s jokes, and built a life filled with orchids, laughter, strong opinions, and deep devotion.
Gabriella, you made him proud every single day. You knew he was in your corner. And guess what? He still is.
You’ve already felt it—the signs. The bird that wouldn’t stop squawking. The flight number that matched his birthday. The job opportunities that fell into place. That’s him.
It’s no small thing that John passed away on March 25th—the Feast of the Annunciation. The day heaven touched earth. The day God sent a message to Mary: “Your life is about to change—but I will be with you through it all.”
And I believe that’s the message John sends to you today:“Your life has changed—but I’m still with you.”
Not in the same way. But in the signs. In the laughter. In the memories. In the quiet strength he taught you.
Now, let’s be real—John didn’t always make it to church on Sunday. But faith? Faith was growing in him. In recent years, he found peace listening to the Psalms at night. He was drawn to the stories of Paul. He believed in signs. He believed in God. And he believed in the people God gave him.
That’s the Way of Jesus. Not always perfect. But full of heart.
Jesus said:
“I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.”
John followed that Way—not with polish, but with passion.Not with pretense, but with presence.Not by sitting in pews every Sunday—but by showing up in people’s lives every single day.
That’s holiness too.
So yes, today we mourn. But more than that, we give thanks.
We thank God for John Arendes.
For the father who answered every call, attended every game, and bragged about his daughter to anyone who’d listen.
For the husband who made you laugh, made you think, and made every moment matter.
For the friend who fixed your Wi-Fi, unclogged your sink, brought the perfect gift, and left your heart a little lighter.
For the man who made strangers feel like family—and family feel like royalty.
We thank God for the signs that tell us he’s still close.
And we thank God for preparing a place for him—a place of joy, reunion, healing, and peace.
And one day, if we keep walking the Way of Jesus—with love, with faith, with hope—we’ll see him again.
And when we do? I guarantee he’ll already be at the grill.Flipping steaks. Cracking jokes. Pouring wine.And saying, “You’re just in time. Pull up a chair.”
Until then, we carry his legacy forward.
We call each other more.We gather around the table.We fix what’s broken.We talk to strangers—and maybe even the trees.And most of all, we love as he loved——with our whole heart, every single day.
May John rest in peace.May his memory be a blessing.And may we never forget—he’s not just part of our past.He’s part of our future too. Prayer of Commendation and Gratitude
Into your hands, O Lord of life and love,we commend your servant, John C. Arendes.
We thank you for the gift of his life—for his generous heart, quick wit, strong convictions, and joyful spirit.He lived fully, laughed freely, and loved deeply.He welcomed the stranger, showed up for family,and somehow made every room feel warmer—even when he was just passing through.
Thank you, Lord, for the meals he cooked, the burdens he lifted,the stories he shared, and the care he gave without hesitation.
Now receive him into the place you have prepared—a place of peace, of reunion, of unending joy.Grant him rest after a life poured out in love.
Comfort those who mourn, especially Joanne and Gabriella.Let them find strength in the love he gave and the legacy he leaves.
And as we return to our lives, may we carry something of John with us:his kindness, his courage, his ability to make people feel seen and loved.
And when our own journey is done,bring us all together at your table in heaven,where we will see him again and know the fullness of your joy.
We ask this through Christ our Lord.
All: Amen.
Salvatore DiLorenzo 03-25-2025
I want to begin with a story that I think perfectly captures the spirit of Salvatore.
It was a routine doctor’s visit. As they walked into the waiting room, the receptionist’s face lit up and said, “Sal! How are you?” Big smile. Full warmth. Like they were old friends reconnecting.
Except… it wasn’t Sal’s appointment. It was Rosemary’s.
Rosemary, a bit stunned, leaned over and whispered, “Um… it’s my appointment.” But that was Sal. Whether it was the doctor’s office, the grocery store, a neighbor’s barbecue, or a restaurant he hadn’t been to in five years—people remembered him. Because Sal wasn’t the kind of person who just passed through a room. He made an impression. Sometimes with a joke, sometimes with an opinion he wasn’t shy to share, and often with that big, disarming personality. He didn’t try to win people over—he just did.
And today, we remember and honor a man who, at 82, left a life that was full—full of love, full of flavor, full of honesty, and full of moments that made people smile, laugh, and feel remembered.
It is especially meaningful that today would have been Salvatore’s birthday. And while we gather with grief in our hearts, we also come with gratitude. Because birthdays are for celebrating—and today, we celebrate the life of a husband, a father, a brother, a friend—a man whose presence made people feel more alive.
Jesus said in the Gospel, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. In my Father’s house, there are many dwelling places… and I go to prepare a place for you.”
This is the promise that carries us today.The promise that this life is not the end.The promise that there is a home already prepared for Sal—a place of peace, a place of healing, a place where pain has no hold and joy never ends.
Sal’s life was anything but boring. His story with Rosemary began at a dance in 1964. She had just graduated high school; he was a little older. Her mother wasn’t thrilled—but Rosemary knew. She even walked around the coffee table saying the rosary that he would call her. And thankfully, he did. And he never stopped showing up.
They were married for 56 years. A love story built not just on romance, but on resilience. They moved around a lot—life in sales will do that. They raised their sons, Derek and Damon, who each carry a piece of their father’s spirit. They built a home where food was an expression of love, and humor was the soundtrack of daily life.
Sal had opinions—and he shared them. He wasn’t one to hold back. But that’s part of what made him such a presence. He remembered people. He made them feel important. He was loyal, grounded, and honest to the core.
He was also a survivor. At just 18 months old, he endured major surgeries. And for much of his life, he carried the scars—both seen and unseen. He lived with chronic pain, battled rheumatoid arthritis, and yet you’d often find him smiling, cracking a joke, or cooking something incredible.
Because if there was one thing Sal knew how to do—it was cook. Shrimp scampi on a weeknight? No problem. Stuffed artichokes? Done. Blue crabs? Of course—he even had the hat to match. He cooked his mother’s recipes with pride, and he cooked for his family with love. If food was a way to connect, Sal built bridges every time he walked into the kitchen.
And when illness finally caught up with him in his last months—shingles, COVID, a bladder infection, two strokes—he kept trying. He kept showing up. Even in rehab, he smiled. He walked the halls. He wasn’t old, he was just tired. And eventually, it was time.
Rosemary, you were with him every step. You talked to him every day. You said good morning, and good night. And when the time came, you told him, “We’re going to be okay. If you’re tired of fighting, just close your eyes.” And gently, peacefully… he did.
In that moment, he heard you. And he heard God.“Sal, I’ve prepared a place for you. Come home.”
Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” Sal didn’t walk a perfect path—none of us do—but he walked with love, with laughter, and with faith, even when it was quiet or wordless.
He was a good father, a faithful husband, and a man who remembered people’s names because he cared enough to listen. He was funny, kind, and real.
So today, let’s remember Sal not with just tears, but with thanks. Let’s share a good meal—like he would’ve wanted. Let’s tell stories. Let’s smile when we say his name.
And let us hold fast to the promise of Christ:That death is not the end,That love does not die,And that in the Father’s house, Sal has found his place—where the kitchen is always stocked, the jokes are always good, and the pain is finally gone.
Final Prayer of Commendation and Gratitude
Loving and merciful God,Into Your hands we now commend our brother, Salvatore,With hearts that are heavy with sorrow,But also filled with deep gratitude—for the gift he was to us.
Thank You for the love he gave so generously,For the laughter he shared so freely,For the meals he prepared with joy,And for the memories he leaves behind—etched on our hearts forever.
You blessed Sal with the gift of a big heart, a strong spirit,And a presence that filled every room he entered.You walked with him through pain, through trials, through joy—And now, we trust, You have welcomed him home.
May he rest now in the peace he longed for,Free from all suffering, embraced by Your eternal light.And may all of us who loved him find comfort in knowingThat he lives on—not just in Your Kingdom, but in every life he touched.
Comfort Rosemary, Derek, Damon, and all who grieve today.Surround them with Your presence.Give them strength for the days ahead, and peace for their hearts.Let the story of Sal’s life continue in them—Through kindness, through courage, through love that never ends.
Lord, receive Sal with joy into the place prepared for him,Where every tear is wiped away, and every heart is made whole.Until we meet again in Your house, where love never dies.
We ask this through Christ our Lord.Amen.
It was a routine doctor’s visit. As they walked into the waiting room, the receptionist’s face lit up and said, “Sal! How are you?” Big smile. Full warmth. Like they were old friends reconnecting.
Except… it wasn’t Sal’s appointment. It was Rosemary’s.
Rosemary, a bit stunned, leaned over and whispered, “Um… it’s my appointment.” But that was Sal. Whether it was the doctor’s office, the grocery store, a neighbor’s barbecue, or a restaurant he hadn’t been to in five years—people remembered him. Because Sal wasn’t the kind of person who just passed through a room. He made an impression. Sometimes with a joke, sometimes with an opinion he wasn’t shy to share, and often with that big, disarming personality. He didn’t try to win people over—he just did.
And today, we remember and honor a man who, at 82, left a life that was full—full of love, full of flavor, full of honesty, and full of moments that made people smile, laugh, and feel remembered.
It is especially meaningful that today would have been Salvatore’s birthday. And while we gather with grief in our hearts, we also come with gratitude. Because birthdays are for celebrating—and today, we celebrate the life of a husband, a father, a brother, a friend—a man whose presence made people feel more alive.
Jesus said in the Gospel, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. In my Father’s house, there are many dwelling places… and I go to prepare a place for you.”
This is the promise that carries us today.The promise that this life is not the end.The promise that there is a home already prepared for Sal—a place of peace, a place of healing, a place where pain has no hold and joy never ends.
Sal’s life was anything but boring. His story with Rosemary began at a dance in 1964. She had just graduated high school; he was a little older. Her mother wasn’t thrilled—but Rosemary knew. She even walked around the coffee table saying the rosary that he would call her. And thankfully, he did. And he never stopped showing up.
They were married for 56 years. A love story built not just on romance, but on resilience. They moved around a lot—life in sales will do that. They raised their sons, Derek and Damon, who each carry a piece of their father’s spirit. They built a home where food was an expression of love, and humor was the soundtrack of daily life.
Sal had opinions—and he shared them. He wasn’t one to hold back. But that’s part of what made him such a presence. He remembered people. He made them feel important. He was loyal, grounded, and honest to the core.
He was also a survivor. At just 18 months old, he endured major surgeries. And for much of his life, he carried the scars—both seen and unseen. He lived with chronic pain, battled rheumatoid arthritis, and yet you’d often find him smiling, cracking a joke, or cooking something incredible.
Because if there was one thing Sal knew how to do—it was cook. Shrimp scampi on a weeknight? No problem. Stuffed artichokes? Done. Blue crabs? Of course—he even had the hat to match. He cooked his mother’s recipes with pride, and he cooked for his family with love. If food was a way to connect, Sal built bridges every time he walked into the kitchen.
And when illness finally caught up with him in his last months—shingles, COVID, a bladder infection, two strokes—he kept trying. He kept showing up. Even in rehab, he smiled. He walked the halls. He wasn’t old, he was just tired. And eventually, it was time.
Rosemary, you were with him every step. You talked to him every day. You said good morning, and good night. And when the time came, you told him, “We’re going to be okay. If you’re tired of fighting, just close your eyes.” And gently, peacefully… he did.
In that moment, he heard you. And he heard God.“Sal, I’ve prepared a place for you. Come home.”
Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” Sal didn’t walk a perfect path—none of us do—but he walked with love, with laughter, and with faith, even when it was quiet or wordless.
He was a good father, a faithful husband, and a man who remembered people’s names because he cared enough to listen. He was funny, kind, and real.
So today, let’s remember Sal not with just tears, but with thanks. Let’s share a good meal—like he would’ve wanted. Let’s tell stories. Let’s smile when we say his name.
And let us hold fast to the promise of Christ:That death is not the end,That love does not die,And that in the Father’s house, Sal has found his place—where the kitchen is always stocked, the jokes are always good, and the pain is finally gone.
Final Prayer of Commendation and Gratitude
Loving and merciful God,Into Your hands we now commend our brother, Salvatore,With hearts that are heavy with sorrow,But also filled with deep gratitude—for the gift he was to us.
Thank You for the love he gave so generously,For the laughter he shared so freely,For the meals he prepared with joy,And for the memories he leaves behind—etched on our hearts forever.
You blessed Sal with the gift of a big heart, a strong spirit,And a presence that filled every room he entered.You walked with him through pain, through trials, through joy—And now, we trust, You have welcomed him home.
May he rest now in the peace he longed for,Free from all suffering, embraced by Your eternal light.And may all of us who loved him find comfort in knowingThat he lives on—not just in Your Kingdom, but in every life he touched.
Comfort Rosemary, Derek, Damon, and all who grieve today.Surround them with Your presence.Give them strength for the days ahead, and peace for their hearts.Let the story of Sal’s life continue in them—Through kindness, through courage, through love that never ends.
Lord, receive Sal with joy into the place prepared for him,Where every tear is wiped away, and every heart is made whole.Until we meet again in Your house, where love never dies.
We ask this through Christ our Lord.Amen.
Jerry L. Fournier 03-22-2025
We all have those people in our lives—the ones who bring people together, who quietly organize, lead, and make sure everyone has what they need before they even know they need it. For many of us, Jerry was that person.
I’ll never forget one story Morna shared that captures Jerry so well. It was their turn—again—to organize the annual bratwurst and sauerkraut cookout in their Bonita Bay community. Jerry, of course, put on his apron like a general preparing for battle. With his signature charm and wit, he started giving everyone their marching orders: “You handle the brats,” “You stir the sauerkraut,” “You smile and greet.” It was classic Jerry—leading with warmth, humor, and a quiet sense of command. He didn’t just serve food; he served people. That’s who he was.
Jerry Fournier had a gift—not just for organizing events, or managing teams, or making incredible ribs and Caesar salad from scratch—though he certainly did all that. Jerry had the gift of making people feel welcome, valued, and seen. Whether you were a guest at his table, a friend at church, or a stranger getting the full “Chamber of Commerce tour” through Bonita Springs, Jerry made you feel like you belonged.
He was a man of deep character and kindness. Morna remembers how he always looked for the good in others. If someone said something unkind, Jerry would gently deflect it: “I’m sure they didn’t mean it.” That’s a rare quality—to give people the benefit of the doubt, to see them through the lens of compassion rather than judgment. That’s grace. And Jerry carried it naturally.
He was a family man. A devoted husband to Morna, a proud father to Jason and Kellee, and a doting grandfather to Lily and Liam. He passed on more than just his cooking secrets—though I hear Papa’s “Buzz Spaghetti” is a family treasure. He passed on a legacy of kindness, generosity, and faith.
Jerry wasn’t perfect—none of us are—but he was faithful. He prayed every night, beginning with the Lord’s Prayer. And even as memory began to slip away, he held tightly to that prayer. He may not have been able to recite every word by heart anymore, but he wanted it printed, so he could continue his nightly ritual. He didn’t want to miss a Sunday Mass. Faith wasn’t something he wore on his sleeve—it was rooted deep in his heart, in the quiet choices of his life, in the way he served, the way he gave, and the way he lived.
To Kellee and Jason—your dad worked hard for you. He built a business not just for his own success, but so he could one day help you and others build something of your own. He helped you find your footing in careers, supported you through swim meets and Scout trips, and cheered you on every step of the way. Even when there were moments of distance or misunderstanding, there was still that love underneath it all. Jason, I know your memories include trips, adventures, time spent fishing and camping. Kellee, you’ve said it best: your dad taught you to be a kind person. What a beautiful legacy.
To Lily and Liam—your papa loved you deeply. He made sure your ski trips were magical and that every detail, from flights to ski lessons, was taken care of. You’ll carry his kindness, his laughter, and his generosity in your hearts.
Morna, your life with Jerry was filled with partnership—gardening together, boating, traveling the world, cooking and entertaining. You brought beauty and warmth into each other’s lives. You were a team, from table settings to travel itineraries, from laughter to the harder moments of caregiving. What a gift to have found each other, to have shared 13½ beautiful years, and to have built a life that others admired and loved to be part of.
Friends, we say goodbye to a man who lived fully. Who loved deeply. Who gave generously. Jerry may have left this world, but his spirit lives on—in the spaghetti recipes passed on with a wooden spoon, in the laughter of his grandchildren recalling ski trips and wildlife sightings, in the lives of those he touched through his kindness, leadership, and love.
As we gather here in faith, we commend Jerry to the care of the One who knew him best—who called him to prayer each night, who fed him with hope each Sunday, and who now welcomes him home.
Jesus said, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.” Jerry walked that way—with kindness, service, and joy. And today, we trust that he has arrived at the place prepared for him—a place of peace, of reunion, of love beyond all measure.
Jerry Fournier was, as he liked to say, “a classic.” And in the eyes of God, he truly was—first in class in the things that matter most: love, faith, and generosity of heart.
May he rest in peace.And may God comfort all who mourn him.Amen.
Loving God,we thank you for the life of Jerry Fournier—for his kindness, his laughter, his faith, and his love.He was a gift to all who knew him.
Now we place him in your hands.Welcome him into the home you have prepared,where there is no more pain, only peace and joy.
Bring comfort to Morna, Jason, Kellee, Lily, and Liam.Fill their hearts with your peaceand the hope that one day we will all be together again.
We ask this through Christ our Lord.Amen.
Opening Prayer for the Funeral Mass
Let us pray.
Almighty and ever-living God,in your tender mercy you give us the gift of life,and in your loving kindness, you promise eternal lifeto those who believe in you.
Today we commend to you your servant Jerry,whom you have called from this life.As we celebrate the life he lived—with generosity, faith, and love—grant us the grace to be comforted by your promises,and to be strengthened by the hope of resurrection.
Welcome him now into the peace and joy of your heavenly kingdom,where there is no more sorrow, no more pain,but the fullness of life with you forever.
We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit,God, for ever and ever.
Amen.
I’ll never forget one story Morna shared that captures Jerry so well. It was their turn—again—to organize the annual bratwurst and sauerkraut cookout in their Bonita Bay community. Jerry, of course, put on his apron like a general preparing for battle. With his signature charm and wit, he started giving everyone their marching orders: “You handle the brats,” “You stir the sauerkraut,” “You smile and greet.” It was classic Jerry—leading with warmth, humor, and a quiet sense of command. He didn’t just serve food; he served people. That’s who he was.
Jerry Fournier had a gift—not just for organizing events, or managing teams, or making incredible ribs and Caesar salad from scratch—though he certainly did all that. Jerry had the gift of making people feel welcome, valued, and seen. Whether you were a guest at his table, a friend at church, or a stranger getting the full “Chamber of Commerce tour” through Bonita Springs, Jerry made you feel like you belonged.
He was a man of deep character and kindness. Morna remembers how he always looked for the good in others. If someone said something unkind, Jerry would gently deflect it: “I’m sure they didn’t mean it.” That’s a rare quality—to give people the benefit of the doubt, to see them through the lens of compassion rather than judgment. That’s grace. And Jerry carried it naturally.
He was a family man. A devoted husband to Morna, a proud father to Jason and Kellee, and a doting grandfather to Lily and Liam. He passed on more than just his cooking secrets—though I hear Papa’s “Buzz Spaghetti” is a family treasure. He passed on a legacy of kindness, generosity, and faith.
Jerry wasn’t perfect—none of us are—but he was faithful. He prayed every night, beginning with the Lord’s Prayer. And even as memory began to slip away, he held tightly to that prayer. He may not have been able to recite every word by heart anymore, but he wanted it printed, so he could continue his nightly ritual. He didn’t want to miss a Sunday Mass. Faith wasn’t something he wore on his sleeve—it was rooted deep in his heart, in the quiet choices of his life, in the way he served, the way he gave, and the way he lived.
To Kellee and Jason—your dad worked hard for you. He built a business not just for his own success, but so he could one day help you and others build something of your own. He helped you find your footing in careers, supported you through swim meets and Scout trips, and cheered you on every step of the way. Even when there were moments of distance or misunderstanding, there was still that love underneath it all. Jason, I know your memories include trips, adventures, time spent fishing and camping. Kellee, you’ve said it best: your dad taught you to be a kind person. What a beautiful legacy.
To Lily and Liam—your papa loved you deeply. He made sure your ski trips were magical and that every detail, from flights to ski lessons, was taken care of. You’ll carry his kindness, his laughter, and his generosity in your hearts.
Morna, your life with Jerry was filled with partnership—gardening together, boating, traveling the world, cooking and entertaining. You brought beauty and warmth into each other’s lives. You were a team, from table settings to travel itineraries, from laughter to the harder moments of caregiving. What a gift to have found each other, to have shared 13½ beautiful years, and to have built a life that others admired and loved to be part of.
Friends, we say goodbye to a man who lived fully. Who loved deeply. Who gave generously. Jerry may have left this world, but his spirit lives on—in the spaghetti recipes passed on with a wooden spoon, in the laughter of his grandchildren recalling ski trips and wildlife sightings, in the lives of those he touched through his kindness, leadership, and love.
As we gather here in faith, we commend Jerry to the care of the One who knew him best—who called him to prayer each night, who fed him with hope each Sunday, and who now welcomes him home.
Jesus said, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.” Jerry walked that way—with kindness, service, and joy. And today, we trust that he has arrived at the place prepared for him—a place of peace, of reunion, of love beyond all measure.
Jerry Fournier was, as he liked to say, “a classic.” And in the eyes of God, he truly was—first in class in the things that matter most: love, faith, and generosity of heart.
May he rest in peace.And may God comfort all who mourn him.Amen.
Loving God,we thank you for the life of Jerry Fournier—for his kindness, his laughter, his faith, and his love.He was a gift to all who knew him.
Now we place him in your hands.Welcome him into the home you have prepared,where there is no more pain, only peace and joy.
Bring comfort to Morna, Jason, Kellee, Lily, and Liam.Fill their hearts with your peaceand the hope that one day we will all be together again.
We ask this through Christ our Lord.Amen.
Opening Prayer for the Funeral Mass
Let us pray.
Almighty and ever-living God,in your tender mercy you give us the gift of life,and in your loving kindness, you promise eternal lifeto those who believe in you.
Today we commend to you your servant Jerry,whom you have called from this life.As we celebrate the life he lived—with generosity, faith, and love—grant us the grace to be comforted by your promises,and to be strengthened by the hope of resurrection.
Welcome him now into the peace and joy of your heavenly kingdom,where there is no more sorrow, no more pain,but the fullness of life with you forever.
We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit,God, for ever and ever.
Amen.
Sr. Declan Power, PBVM 03-21-2025
There’s an old story told about a teacher who once walked into a noisy classroom, said absolutely nothing, and simply raised her hand in the air.
Within seconds… silence.
The students knew: “She means business.”
That kind of quiet authority can’t be faked. It comes from character, presence, and wisdom earned through years of teaching not just lessons—but life.
And anyone who knew Sr. Declan Power—especially if you were ever her student—knows exactly what that moment felt like.
No raised voice. No theatrics. Just that raised hand… and maybe a look that said: “I know exactly who’s talking in the back row, and this is your last warning.”(And yes, students straightened up real fast.)
But that wasn’t fear—it was respect. She was a force of calm, a master of the craft, and, as one former student put it, “a character.” Not only did she know how to command a room, she did it with a smile tucked just beneath the surface, and often with more than a bit of spark.
[A Life Rooted in the Vine]
Today’s Gospel gives us a perfect image for Sr. Declan’s life:“I am the vine, you are the branches… Whoever remains in me and I in them will bear much fruit.”
Sr. Declan was a branch that remained deeply rooted in Christ—firm, faithful, and fruitful.
Born in Ardmore, County Waterford, she was one of eleven siblings. She was the only one who entered religious life, joining the Presentation Sisters at just 17. And though she spent much of her life in convents and classrooms, her roots in family and home never left her.
She gave over 40 years to education, teaching in secondary schools across Ireland. She spoke Irish, French, Italian, and English, and probably could have taught all four in the same lesson if she was feeling particularly ambitious.
She had the gift of language, not just in vocabulary—but in knowing how to speak to people’s hearts.
And of course, she was a Presentation Sister, inspired by Nano Nagle, whose motto was: “Not words, but deeds.”Sr. Declan lived that motto—though, let’s be honest, she had plenty of words too… and she wasn’t afraid to use them.
[She Was Not Boring—and That Was a Blessing]
She was opinionated, let’s not pretend otherwise. If something wasn’t right, she’d say so. If someone needed correcting—nun or not—she’d let them know.
She once invited a group into the convent that stirred a bit of controversy. Later, she admitted with a laugh, “That might’ve been a mistake.” But she never regretted trying to make space for others, even if it made things interesting.
She believed deeply in truth, but she also knew when to say, “I got that one wrong.” That kind of humility is rare. And holy.
She had no patience for pettiness, even within her religious community—but her heart was always committed to the mission: to teach, to serve, to pray, to love the Church.
[A Sister to Her Family, and to the World]
To her siblings—Anne, Declan, Nicholas—and to the many nieces, nephews, and extended family here today and abroad, she wasn’t just “Sister Declan.” She was your sister. A woman who never stopped loving her family, even if the rules of religious life meant she couldn’t always be there in person.
Imagine not being allowed to return home, not even for your brother’s funeral. That was the cost she accepted as part of her vocation in the early days of religious life. And she bore it with grace. Because she knew she belonged fully to Christ—and trusted that nothing was wasted in His hands.
[Her Final Lessons]
She lived almost 97 years, and in all those years she continued to teach us—especially in how she aged with dignity, remained intellectually curious, prayed daily, and yes, still picked up litter during her walks around Kilcock, praying the Rosary as Gaeilge.
She knew where she came from.She knew what she believed.And she never stopped sharing that light with the world.
Now, the classroom is quiet.The raised hand has lowered.The voice has fallen silent.But the lesson continues.
Sr. Declan has gone home—not just to Ardmore, but to the eternal home she longed for all her life.
[Commendation & The Irish Blessing]
And now, as we commend her to the God she served so faithfully, we do so with hearts full of gratitude—for the laughter, the lessons, and the love she left behind.
And we say to her, as only the Irish can say it best:
May the road rise to meet you,May the wind be always at your back.May the sun shine warm upon your face;The rain fall soft upon your fields;And until we meet again,May God hold you in the palm of His hand.
Sr. Declan Power,faithful daughter of Ireland,devoted daughter of the Church,beloved sister, teacher, and friend…
Go in peace.Go in joy.And go to your reward.
Amen.
Sent from my iPad
Within seconds… silence.
The students knew: “She means business.”
That kind of quiet authority can’t be faked. It comes from character, presence, and wisdom earned through years of teaching not just lessons—but life.
And anyone who knew Sr. Declan Power—especially if you were ever her student—knows exactly what that moment felt like.
No raised voice. No theatrics. Just that raised hand… and maybe a look that said: “I know exactly who’s talking in the back row, and this is your last warning.”(And yes, students straightened up real fast.)
But that wasn’t fear—it was respect. She was a force of calm, a master of the craft, and, as one former student put it, “a character.” Not only did she know how to command a room, she did it with a smile tucked just beneath the surface, and often with more than a bit of spark.
[A Life Rooted in the Vine]
Today’s Gospel gives us a perfect image for Sr. Declan’s life:“I am the vine, you are the branches… Whoever remains in me and I in them will bear much fruit.”
Sr. Declan was a branch that remained deeply rooted in Christ—firm, faithful, and fruitful.
Born in Ardmore, County Waterford, she was one of eleven siblings. She was the only one who entered religious life, joining the Presentation Sisters at just 17. And though she spent much of her life in convents and classrooms, her roots in family and home never left her.
She gave over 40 years to education, teaching in secondary schools across Ireland. She spoke Irish, French, Italian, and English, and probably could have taught all four in the same lesson if she was feeling particularly ambitious.
She had the gift of language, not just in vocabulary—but in knowing how to speak to people’s hearts.
And of course, she was a Presentation Sister, inspired by Nano Nagle, whose motto was: “Not words, but deeds.”Sr. Declan lived that motto—though, let’s be honest, she had plenty of words too… and she wasn’t afraid to use them.
[She Was Not Boring—and That Was a Blessing]
She was opinionated, let’s not pretend otherwise. If something wasn’t right, she’d say so. If someone needed correcting—nun or not—she’d let them know.
She once invited a group into the convent that stirred a bit of controversy. Later, she admitted with a laugh, “That might’ve been a mistake.” But she never regretted trying to make space for others, even if it made things interesting.
She believed deeply in truth, but she also knew when to say, “I got that one wrong.” That kind of humility is rare. And holy.
She had no patience for pettiness, even within her religious community—but her heart was always committed to the mission: to teach, to serve, to pray, to love the Church.
[A Sister to Her Family, and to the World]
To her siblings—Anne, Declan, Nicholas—and to the many nieces, nephews, and extended family here today and abroad, she wasn’t just “Sister Declan.” She was your sister. A woman who never stopped loving her family, even if the rules of religious life meant she couldn’t always be there in person.
Imagine not being allowed to return home, not even for your brother’s funeral. That was the cost she accepted as part of her vocation in the early days of religious life. And she bore it with grace. Because she knew she belonged fully to Christ—and trusted that nothing was wasted in His hands.
[Her Final Lessons]
She lived almost 97 years, and in all those years she continued to teach us—especially in how she aged with dignity, remained intellectually curious, prayed daily, and yes, still picked up litter during her walks around Kilcock, praying the Rosary as Gaeilge.
She knew where she came from.She knew what she believed.And she never stopped sharing that light with the world.
Now, the classroom is quiet.The raised hand has lowered.The voice has fallen silent.But the lesson continues.
Sr. Declan has gone home—not just to Ardmore, but to the eternal home she longed for all her life.
[Commendation & The Irish Blessing]
And now, as we commend her to the God she served so faithfully, we do so with hearts full of gratitude—for the laughter, the lessons, and the love she left behind.
And we say to her, as only the Irish can say it best:
May the road rise to meet you,May the wind be always at your back.May the sun shine warm upon your face;The rain fall soft upon your fields;And until we meet again,May God hold you in the palm of His hand.
Sr. Declan Power,faithful daughter of Ireland,devoted daughter of the Church,beloved sister, teacher, and friend…
Go in peace.Go in joy.And go to your reward.
Amen.
Sent from my iPad
Patricia Hulbert 03-19-2025
There was once a woman who faced more challenges in her lifetime than most people could imagine. She was strong, independent, and full of life, but one day, everything changed. A sudden illness left her blind, forcing her to relearn even the simplest tasks—walking through her home, cooking, working, caring for her family.
It would have been easy to give up. To become bitter. To feel sorry for herself. But that’s not who she was.
Instead of dwelling on what she had lost, she focused on what she still had—her family, her faith, her love for life. She learned how to adapt, how to work again, how to find joy even in the struggle. She never let pain or hardship steal her spirit. When people around her worried, she would simply say, “Just pray. This too shall pass.”
Her strength was not loud or dramatic—it was quiet, steady, and unshakable. It inspired everyone who knew her.
That woman was Trisha.
And that’s why we are here today—not just to grieve her passing, but to celebrate the life of a woman who refused to be defeated.
The Strength of a Wife and Mother
Being a wife and mother is not just about providing or protecting—it’s about shaping hearts, inspiring resilience, and offering unwavering love.
Trisha was John’s best friend—the one who laughed at his jokes even when she was mad at him, the one who made every challenge seem easier because they faced it together. She was the rock of her family, the one who never let hardship take away her joy, who turned even the darkest moments into lessons of faith and perseverance.
Her children remember her not just as a mother but as their safe place—the one who calmed every storm, answered every late-night phone call, and never let them walk through life alone.
She could have let her struggles make her bitter. Instead, she let them make her wise.
And today, that wisdom lives on in them.
Spirituality in Action
Faith was not just something Trisha talked about—it was something she lived.
Every Sunday, she and John were there—sitting in the back pew, quietly but faithfully present. She didn’t need to be seen or noticed. She was simply there because her faith mattered.
But her faith was more than Mass attendance. It was how she loved, how she forgave, how she always responded with kindness instead of anger.
Even in her final days, she was not praying for herself—but for the world.
That is the kind of faith that doesn’t just comfort—it transforms.
A Sister’s Love and a Family’s Heart
For Trisha, family was everything.
She was selfless—dropping everything to help a loved one, never seeing it as a burden, but as a privilege to serve.
Her siblings recall how even when she needed help, she was the one offering comfort to others. That’s who she was. Even in her suffering, her heart remained open, her spirit unshaken.
One of the most beautiful signs of her closeness to God came in a simple but extraordinary moment:
On February 4, her sister Jenny was listening to Mass at St. Patrick’s Cathedral—a routine she had done for years. Every day, during the prayers for the departed, a list of names would be read. Usually, it was for five or six people.
But on that day, they read just one name:
“For the repose of the soul of Patricia.”
It was as if heaven itself was confirming what we already know:
Trisha is home.
An Enduring Presence
Today, her absence feels overwhelming. But she is not truly gone.
She lives on in the wisdom she shared, the love she gave, and the faith she instilled in her children and family.
Every time her children find themselves comforting someone the way she comforted them, she lives on.Every time her sisters reach out in kindness the way she always did, she lives on.Every time John laughs at a memory, remembering how she was always his best audience, she lives on.
Her legacy is not just in the past—it is in the love that continues through each of you.
Jesus said in John 14:1-6:
“Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms… I am going there to prepare a place for you.”
Trisha’s place was prepared long ago. And today, we take comfort in knowing that she is now in the presence of the God she trusted, the Savior she followed, the Lord she loved.
A Call to Live as She Lived
The best way to honor Trisha is to live as she lived:
• Love fiercely. Never let a day go by without reminding those you love what they mean to you. • Trust in God completely. No matter how difficult life gets, hold onto faith as she did. • Be a source of light. Encourage others, lift them up, and remind them that this too shall pass.
Because if we live as Trisha lived—with love, faith, and resilience—then one day, we will see her again.
Not in memory, but in eternity.
And when that day comes, I have no doubt that she will be waiting with open arms and that radiant smile, saying:
“I’ve been praying for you. Welcome home.”
Amen. Prayer of Commendation and Gratitude for Trisha
Heavenly Father,
With hearts full of love and sorrow, we come before You today, giving thanks for the life of Trisha—Your beloved daughter, our cherished wife, mother, sister, and friend.
We thank You for the gift of her presence in our lives, for the love she poured so generously into her family, and for the quiet strength that carried her through every trial. We are grateful for the wisdom she shared, the faith she lived so beautifully, and the joy she found even in the midst of suffering. Her life was a testament to resilience, kindness, and unwavering trust in You.
Lord, we commend Trisha into Your loving embrace. You have prepared a place for her, and now she is home—where there is no more pain, no more darkness, only the eternal light of Your presence. Welcome her into the fullness of Your peace, where she may rejoice forever with You and all the saints.
Comfort those who mourn her passing—especially John, her children, her sisters, and all who loved her. May they find solace in knowing that her love is not lost but continues to live within them. May they carry forward the lessons she taught, the faith she instilled, and the love she so freely gave.
Lord, grant us the strength to follow her example—to love without hesitation, to trust in You without fear, and to walk this life with the same grace and courage that she did. May we find hope in Your promise that one day, we will be reunited with her in the joy of Your kingdom.
Until that day, keep us close to You, and help us to honor her memory not just in words, but in the way we live our lives.
Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
It would have been easy to give up. To become bitter. To feel sorry for herself. But that’s not who she was.
Instead of dwelling on what she had lost, she focused on what she still had—her family, her faith, her love for life. She learned how to adapt, how to work again, how to find joy even in the struggle. She never let pain or hardship steal her spirit. When people around her worried, she would simply say, “Just pray. This too shall pass.”
Her strength was not loud or dramatic—it was quiet, steady, and unshakable. It inspired everyone who knew her.
That woman was Trisha.
And that’s why we are here today—not just to grieve her passing, but to celebrate the life of a woman who refused to be defeated.
The Strength of a Wife and Mother
Being a wife and mother is not just about providing or protecting—it’s about shaping hearts, inspiring resilience, and offering unwavering love.
Trisha was John’s best friend—the one who laughed at his jokes even when she was mad at him, the one who made every challenge seem easier because they faced it together. She was the rock of her family, the one who never let hardship take away her joy, who turned even the darkest moments into lessons of faith and perseverance.
Her children remember her not just as a mother but as their safe place—the one who calmed every storm, answered every late-night phone call, and never let them walk through life alone.
She could have let her struggles make her bitter. Instead, she let them make her wise.
And today, that wisdom lives on in them.
Spirituality in Action
Faith was not just something Trisha talked about—it was something she lived.
Every Sunday, she and John were there—sitting in the back pew, quietly but faithfully present. She didn’t need to be seen or noticed. She was simply there because her faith mattered.
But her faith was more than Mass attendance. It was how she loved, how she forgave, how she always responded with kindness instead of anger.
Even in her final days, she was not praying for herself—but for the world.
That is the kind of faith that doesn’t just comfort—it transforms.
A Sister’s Love and a Family’s Heart
For Trisha, family was everything.
She was selfless—dropping everything to help a loved one, never seeing it as a burden, but as a privilege to serve.
Her siblings recall how even when she needed help, she was the one offering comfort to others. That’s who she was. Even in her suffering, her heart remained open, her spirit unshaken.
One of the most beautiful signs of her closeness to God came in a simple but extraordinary moment:
On February 4, her sister Jenny was listening to Mass at St. Patrick’s Cathedral—a routine she had done for years. Every day, during the prayers for the departed, a list of names would be read. Usually, it was for five or six people.
But on that day, they read just one name:
“For the repose of the soul of Patricia.”
It was as if heaven itself was confirming what we already know:
Trisha is home.
An Enduring Presence
Today, her absence feels overwhelming. But she is not truly gone.
She lives on in the wisdom she shared, the love she gave, and the faith she instilled in her children and family.
Every time her children find themselves comforting someone the way she comforted them, she lives on.Every time her sisters reach out in kindness the way she always did, she lives on.Every time John laughs at a memory, remembering how she was always his best audience, she lives on.
Her legacy is not just in the past—it is in the love that continues through each of you.
Jesus said in John 14:1-6:
“Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms… I am going there to prepare a place for you.”
Trisha’s place was prepared long ago. And today, we take comfort in knowing that she is now in the presence of the God she trusted, the Savior she followed, the Lord she loved.
A Call to Live as She Lived
The best way to honor Trisha is to live as she lived:
• Love fiercely. Never let a day go by without reminding those you love what they mean to you. • Trust in God completely. No matter how difficult life gets, hold onto faith as she did. • Be a source of light. Encourage others, lift them up, and remind them that this too shall pass.
Because if we live as Trisha lived—with love, faith, and resilience—then one day, we will see her again.
Not in memory, but in eternity.
And when that day comes, I have no doubt that she will be waiting with open arms and that radiant smile, saying:
“I’ve been praying for you. Welcome home.”
Amen. Prayer of Commendation and Gratitude for Trisha
Heavenly Father,
With hearts full of love and sorrow, we come before You today, giving thanks for the life of Trisha—Your beloved daughter, our cherished wife, mother, sister, and friend.
We thank You for the gift of her presence in our lives, for the love she poured so generously into her family, and for the quiet strength that carried her through every trial. We are grateful for the wisdom she shared, the faith she lived so beautifully, and the joy she found even in the midst of suffering. Her life was a testament to resilience, kindness, and unwavering trust in You.
Lord, we commend Trisha into Your loving embrace. You have prepared a place for her, and now she is home—where there is no more pain, no more darkness, only the eternal light of Your presence. Welcome her into the fullness of Your peace, where she may rejoice forever with You and all the saints.
Comfort those who mourn her passing—especially John, her children, her sisters, and all who loved her. May they find solace in knowing that her love is not lost but continues to live within them. May they carry forward the lessons she taught, the faith she instilled, and the love she so freely gave.
Lord, grant us the strength to follow her example—to love without hesitation, to trust in You without fear, and to walk this life with the same grace and courage that she did. May we find hope in Your promise that one day, we will be reunited with her in the joy of Your kingdom.
Until that day, keep us close to You, and help us to honor her memory not just in words, but in the way we live our lives.
Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Robert “Bob” Wintringham 03-19-2025
There was a man who never met a stranger. Whether he was at the grocery store, a gas station, or a restaurant, he knew people by name—and they knew him. Cashiers would ask his daughters, “Where’s your dad? We haven’t seen him in a while!” Because he wasn’t just another customer; he was a friend. He had a way of making people feel seen, like they mattered. That was his kindness. It wasn’t flashy, it wasn’t loud—it was simply who he was.
That man was Robert Wintringham.
But kindness was just one part of Bob’s legacy. He was a man of incredible work ethic, of quiet strength, and of unwavering integrity. He believed in doing the right thing, no matter what. His daughters learned from him that no one is beneath you and everyone deserves respect. He showed them through his own example that work is work—whether you own a company or take a job to make ends meet, dignity isn’t found in the title, but in how you carry yourself.
Bob’s work ethic was legendary. He built businesses, invented new technology, and earned recognition for his brilliant mind. He was an innovator, a problem-solver, and a man who never stopped learning. But when life threw challenges his way, when businesses struggled or circumstances changed, he never complained. He simply did what needed to be done. His daughter once came home, exhausted from working, studying, and balancing life, and said, “Dad, I’m so tired.” He looked at her and said, “You don’t know what tired is.” And he was probably right. Because Bob worked hard—always—without excuses and without self-pity.
But he was more than his work. He was a father who showed up. He was a man who chased down a thief in the street while his kids watched from the car, a man who stopped at an accident even though he wasn’t a police officer anymore, a man who—despite his toughness—had a heart that never turned away from someone in need.
And he loved. He loved his daughters, Jill, Robin, and Sandi, in a way that shaped them into the strong, kind women they are today. He loved his grandchildren, passing down lessons not just in words but in example. And after losing his beloved wife, Deanna, 25 years ago, when his family worried about how he would go on, he found love again.
Emily, you gave him something that not even his daughters had seen before—a sparkle in his eye, a new kind of joy. For over 20 years, you were his partner, his companion, his heart. You were the center of his world, and even in his final days, when he wasn’t feeling well, when life had slowed him down, that sparkle was still there when you walked into the room.
Losing someone like Bob leaves a hole in our hearts. And that brings us to another man who knew the pain of loss—Jesus Christ.
When Jesus lost His dear friend Lazarus, He did something extraordinary. He wept. Even though He knew He was about to raise Lazarus from the dead, even though He had power over life and death, He still stood in that moment and grieved. Because love doesn’t ignore pain. Love stands beside it, acknowledges it, and walks through it.
That’s what we are doing today. We are grieving, we are remembering, and yes, we are celebrating. Because just as Jesus raised Lazarus, He has promised eternal life to those who believe in Him.
Bob lived that belief. He showed up for people. He loved them. He never asked for recognition, never made a big deal about himself, but his impact is undeniable. His daughters stand here today as women shaped by their father’s love, his example, and his wisdom. And Emily, you carry with you the love of a man who cherished you completely.
So today, even as we mourn, we hold onto hope. The same Jesus who stood at Lazarus’ tomb stands with us now. And He reminds us that death is not the end. That love never dies.
Bob, may you rest in the embrace of the God who has been waiting to welcome you home. Prayer of Commendation and Gratitude
Loving and merciful God,into your hands we commend our brother, Robert Wintringham.With hearts full of gratitude, we thank you for the gift of his life—for his kindness, his strength, his hard work, and his unwavering love for family and friends.
We thank you for the lessons he taught,for the values he instilled,for the joy he brought into the lives of so many.His generosity, his integrity, and his quiet yet steadfast presencehave left a lasting mark on all who knew him.
Lord, as we now entrust him to your care,welcome him into the fullness of your peace and light.May he be reunited with his beloved Deanna and all who have gone before him,and may he rest in the embrace of your eternal love.
Comfort his family—his daughters, his grandchildren,his beloved Emily, and all who mourn—with the hope of resurrection and the assurancethat love never ends.
We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.
That man was Robert Wintringham.
But kindness was just one part of Bob’s legacy. He was a man of incredible work ethic, of quiet strength, and of unwavering integrity. He believed in doing the right thing, no matter what. His daughters learned from him that no one is beneath you and everyone deserves respect. He showed them through his own example that work is work—whether you own a company or take a job to make ends meet, dignity isn’t found in the title, but in how you carry yourself.
Bob’s work ethic was legendary. He built businesses, invented new technology, and earned recognition for his brilliant mind. He was an innovator, a problem-solver, and a man who never stopped learning. But when life threw challenges his way, when businesses struggled or circumstances changed, he never complained. He simply did what needed to be done. His daughter once came home, exhausted from working, studying, and balancing life, and said, “Dad, I’m so tired.” He looked at her and said, “You don’t know what tired is.” And he was probably right. Because Bob worked hard—always—without excuses and without self-pity.
But he was more than his work. He was a father who showed up. He was a man who chased down a thief in the street while his kids watched from the car, a man who stopped at an accident even though he wasn’t a police officer anymore, a man who—despite his toughness—had a heart that never turned away from someone in need.
And he loved. He loved his daughters, Jill, Robin, and Sandi, in a way that shaped them into the strong, kind women they are today. He loved his grandchildren, passing down lessons not just in words but in example. And after losing his beloved wife, Deanna, 25 years ago, when his family worried about how he would go on, he found love again.
Emily, you gave him something that not even his daughters had seen before—a sparkle in his eye, a new kind of joy. For over 20 years, you were his partner, his companion, his heart. You were the center of his world, and even in his final days, when he wasn’t feeling well, when life had slowed him down, that sparkle was still there when you walked into the room.
Losing someone like Bob leaves a hole in our hearts. And that brings us to another man who knew the pain of loss—Jesus Christ.
When Jesus lost His dear friend Lazarus, He did something extraordinary. He wept. Even though He knew He was about to raise Lazarus from the dead, even though He had power over life and death, He still stood in that moment and grieved. Because love doesn’t ignore pain. Love stands beside it, acknowledges it, and walks through it.
That’s what we are doing today. We are grieving, we are remembering, and yes, we are celebrating. Because just as Jesus raised Lazarus, He has promised eternal life to those who believe in Him.
Bob lived that belief. He showed up for people. He loved them. He never asked for recognition, never made a big deal about himself, but his impact is undeniable. His daughters stand here today as women shaped by their father’s love, his example, and his wisdom. And Emily, you carry with you the love of a man who cherished you completely.
So today, even as we mourn, we hold onto hope. The same Jesus who stood at Lazarus’ tomb stands with us now. And He reminds us that death is not the end. That love never dies.
Bob, may you rest in the embrace of the God who has been waiting to welcome you home. Prayer of Commendation and Gratitude
Loving and merciful God,into your hands we commend our brother, Robert Wintringham.With hearts full of gratitude, we thank you for the gift of his life—for his kindness, his strength, his hard work, and his unwavering love for family and friends.
We thank you for the lessons he taught,for the values he instilled,for the joy he brought into the lives of so many.His generosity, his integrity, and his quiet yet steadfast presencehave left a lasting mark on all who knew him.
Lord, as we now entrust him to your care,welcome him into the fullness of your peace and light.May he be reunited with his beloved Deanna and all who have gone before him,and may he rest in the embrace of your eternal love.
Comfort his family—his daughters, his grandchildren,his beloved Emily, and all who mourn—with the hope of resurrection and the assurancethat love never ends.
We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.
Betty Ann Rolfsen 03-11-2025
There’s an old saying that life is a journey, not a destination. But if you knew Betty Ann Rolfsen, you’d know that while she certainly enjoyed the journey, she always had a destination in mind—preferably one she had planned down to the last detail. Whether it was a road trip in the motorhome, a golf outing, or a weekend at Fish Lake, Betty was the one making sure the bags were packed, the itinerary was set, and, most importantly, that everyone was coming along for the ride.
And now, she has taken her final journey, one that she didn’t have to plan—because Jesus had already taken care of it. In today’s Gospel, He says:
“Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you?” (John 14:1-2)
Jesus, the ultimate trip planner, has been preparing a place for Betty her whole life. And if I had to guess, she probably arrived with a few suggestions on how things could be arranged just a little better.
A Life Well-Lived
Betty was a woman who lived with purpose and love. She was born and raised in Indianapolis, and faith was woven into the fabric of her life from the very beginning. As a young woman, she played the organ at St. Roch’s Catholic Church, which means she not only knew how to keep things in order, but she also knew how to make a grand entrance. And let’s be honest—organists are a rare breed. They’re the ones who get to drown out an off-key congregation while keeping their cool, all while keeping the Mass moving along. That’s talent.
But Betty’s real masterpiece wasn’t music—it was her family. When she married her childhood sweetheart, Jack, she embarked on her greatest adventure. Their love lasted an incredible 71 years, which in today’s world is nothing short of miraculous. You don’t stay married for 71 years without humor, patience, and a deep, abiding love. I’m sure Betty and Jack had their fair share of debates, and I’d bet money that Betty won most of them. But at the heart of it all was devotion—to each other, to their family, to their faith.
She poured her life into raising four daughters, who in turn blessed her with 15 grandchildren and 12 great-grandchildren (with two more on the way—she was already ahead in the numbers game!). She was a woman of warmth and wisdom, the kind of mother and grandmother who made sure everyone was taken care of, while still managing to sneak away for a round of golf.
Golf, Travel, and the Joy of Life
Speaking of golf, Betty wasn’t just a casual player—she loved the game. But golf isn’t just about hitting a ball; it’s about patience, persistence, and knowing when to laugh at yourself. It’s also about friendship. And whether she was on the courses in Indiana or Florida, Betty built friendships with the same grace that she built her family—with kindness, humor, and a welcoming spirit.
She also had a knack for planning adventures. Whether it was a well-organized trip or a spontaneous weekend at Fish Lake, Betty made sure every experience was filled with joy. Summers at the lake weren’t just about relaxing—they were about gathering, storytelling, and making memories that would last a lifetime.
She lived her life as if she knew that the best moments weren’t just the big milestones but the small, everyday ones—the laughter at the dinner table, the hugs from grandchildren, the satisfaction of a well-played round of golf, the quiet moments of faith.
The Journey Home
Today, we say goodbye. But we do not say it with despair, because Betty has simply reached her final destination. And we know that she didn’t arrive at heaven’s gates worried or afraid—because she knew exactly where she was going. If anything, I imagine she walked in, looked around, and said, “Jack, you didn’t tell me it was this nice!”
Jesus tells us, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” Betty followed that way with every step she took—through her faith, through her love for her family, through her joy in life’s simple pleasures. And now, she has been welcomed into the place prepared for her, where there is no more sickness, no more sorrow—only light, peace, and love.
And here’s the thing about Betty—she was never one to leave anyone behind. So while she may have gone ahead of us, I have no doubt she’ll be keeping an eye on things, making sure we all make it home safely, just like she always did.
Until then, we hold onto her love, her laughter, and the lessons she taught us: Love deeply. Cherish your family. Play the game with joy. Trust in God. And maybe—just maybe—keep a well-organized travel itinerary, just in case.
Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Prayer of Commendation and Gratitude for Betty Ann Rolfsen
Loving and merciful God, into Your hands we commend Your beloved servant, Betty Ann Rolfsen. We give You thanks for the many blessings You bestowed upon her in this life—for the love she shared, the faith she lived, and the joy she brought to so many.
We are grateful for her unwavering devotion to her family, for the kindness she extended to others, and for the laughter and warmth she infused into every moment. She walked this earthly journey with faith and love, always trusting in Your guiding hand. Now, we trust that You have welcomed her into the home You have prepared for her, where there is no more pain, no more sorrow—only peace and eternal joy.
Grant her a place at Your heavenly banquet, where she is reunited with her beloved Jack and all who have gone before her. Comfort those who mourn, especially her family, and fill their hearts with the hope of Your promise: that one day, we shall all be together again in Your presence.
Into Your hands, O Lord, we commend Betty Ann. May she rest in Your eternal peace. Amen
And now, she has taken her final journey, one that she didn’t have to plan—because Jesus had already taken care of it. In today’s Gospel, He says:
“Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you?” (John 14:1-2)
Jesus, the ultimate trip planner, has been preparing a place for Betty her whole life. And if I had to guess, she probably arrived with a few suggestions on how things could be arranged just a little better.
A Life Well-Lived
Betty was a woman who lived with purpose and love. She was born and raised in Indianapolis, and faith was woven into the fabric of her life from the very beginning. As a young woman, she played the organ at St. Roch’s Catholic Church, which means she not only knew how to keep things in order, but she also knew how to make a grand entrance. And let’s be honest—organists are a rare breed. They’re the ones who get to drown out an off-key congregation while keeping their cool, all while keeping the Mass moving along. That’s talent.
But Betty’s real masterpiece wasn’t music—it was her family. When she married her childhood sweetheart, Jack, she embarked on her greatest adventure. Their love lasted an incredible 71 years, which in today’s world is nothing short of miraculous. You don’t stay married for 71 years without humor, patience, and a deep, abiding love. I’m sure Betty and Jack had their fair share of debates, and I’d bet money that Betty won most of them. But at the heart of it all was devotion—to each other, to their family, to their faith.
She poured her life into raising four daughters, who in turn blessed her with 15 grandchildren and 12 great-grandchildren (with two more on the way—she was already ahead in the numbers game!). She was a woman of warmth and wisdom, the kind of mother and grandmother who made sure everyone was taken care of, while still managing to sneak away for a round of golf.
Golf, Travel, and the Joy of Life
Speaking of golf, Betty wasn’t just a casual player—she loved the game. But golf isn’t just about hitting a ball; it’s about patience, persistence, and knowing when to laugh at yourself. It’s also about friendship. And whether she was on the courses in Indiana or Florida, Betty built friendships with the same grace that she built her family—with kindness, humor, and a welcoming spirit.
She also had a knack for planning adventures. Whether it was a well-organized trip or a spontaneous weekend at Fish Lake, Betty made sure every experience was filled with joy. Summers at the lake weren’t just about relaxing—they were about gathering, storytelling, and making memories that would last a lifetime.
She lived her life as if she knew that the best moments weren’t just the big milestones but the small, everyday ones—the laughter at the dinner table, the hugs from grandchildren, the satisfaction of a well-played round of golf, the quiet moments of faith.
The Journey Home
Today, we say goodbye. But we do not say it with despair, because Betty has simply reached her final destination. And we know that she didn’t arrive at heaven’s gates worried or afraid—because she knew exactly where she was going. If anything, I imagine she walked in, looked around, and said, “Jack, you didn’t tell me it was this nice!”
Jesus tells us, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” Betty followed that way with every step she took—through her faith, through her love for her family, through her joy in life’s simple pleasures. And now, she has been welcomed into the place prepared for her, where there is no more sickness, no more sorrow—only light, peace, and love.
And here’s the thing about Betty—she was never one to leave anyone behind. So while she may have gone ahead of us, I have no doubt she’ll be keeping an eye on things, making sure we all make it home safely, just like she always did.
Until then, we hold onto her love, her laughter, and the lessons she taught us: Love deeply. Cherish your family. Play the game with joy. Trust in God. And maybe—just maybe—keep a well-organized travel itinerary, just in case.
Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Prayer of Commendation and Gratitude for Betty Ann Rolfsen
Loving and merciful God, into Your hands we commend Your beloved servant, Betty Ann Rolfsen. We give You thanks for the many blessings You bestowed upon her in this life—for the love she shared, the faith she lived, and the joy she brought to so many.
We are grateful for her unwavering devotion to her family, for the kindness she extended to others, and for the laughter and warmth she infused into every moment. She walked this earthly journey with faith and love, always trusting in Your guiding hand. Now, we trust that You have welcomed her into the home You have prepared for her, where there is no more pain, no more sorrow—only peace and eternal joy.
Grant her a place at Your heavenly banquet, where she is reunited with her beloved Jack and all who have gone before her. Comfort those who mourn, especially her family, and fill their hearts with the hope of Your promise: that one day, we shall all be together again in Your presence.
Into Your hands, O Lord, we commend Betty Ann. May she rest in Your eternal peace. Amen
Donald T. Jones 03-07-2025
There are some people in this world who leave behind memories. And then there are those rare few who leave behind a legacy—one built with strong hands, tireless effort, and an unshakable love for the people around them.
Donald Jones was one of those rare few.
Now, if you knew Donald, you knew one thing for certain: he was a worker. Not just the kind of worker who punched a clock and did his duty, but the kind who saw every need, every problem, every challenge, and said, “I’ve got this.” Whether it was as a police officer in New York, a security supervisor, a handyman, a babysitter, or the guy who made sure your shoes were polished before you left the house—Donald didn’t just show up. He took care of things. And he took care of people.
And it wasn’t just about working hard. It was about responsibility. He grew up in a tough world—born in the middle of the Great Depression, raised by parents who had struggles of their own. He learned early that if you wanted something done, you did it yourself. If someone needed help, you didn’t ask why—they just got it. That’s why his children knew, without a doubt, that if they needed something, their father would make it happen. He worked multiple jobs at once, somehow stretched a cop’s salary into a Boston College education, and made sure that when his kids turned 17, a car appeared in the driveway. How? Who knows? Maybe Donald really did have a little magic in him.
But even the hardest worker has to have a soft spot. And Donald’s soft spot—his heart—was his family, especially his beloved Millie. Their love story started in childhood, two kids talking through bedroom windows, and it turned into a 71-year marriage that was built to last. And I imagine that when Donald arrived in heaven, Millie took one look at him and said, “What are you doing here so soon?” And knowing Donald, he probably just grinned and said, “You didn’t think I was going to let you get settled in without me, did you?”
He was a provider, yes—but more than that, he was a presence. A presence in his children’s lives, in his grandchildren’s adventures, in the memories of family vacations, in the lessons he taught without ever giving a lecture. When his grandkids talk about him, they don’t just remember a grandfather. They remember a playmate, an inventor, a storyteller (though the accuracy of those stories is still up for debate). He was the kind of man who could take a tissue box and turn it into a guitar, who could make a raft out of two-by-fours (even if they weren’t the right length), and who somehow turned cleaning a bar at 3:30 in the morning into a master class on discipline and work ethic.
And let’s be honest—he had a streak of stubbornness, too. He wasn’t the kind of man who wanted help. If something was broken, he would fix it. If someone was in trouble, he would handle it. If he had to use a walker, well… maybe he’d rather just stay home. He didn’t want people to see him as weak because, for his whole life, he had been the strong one. The dependable one. The one who showed up.
That’s why the words of Jesus in today’s Gospel mean so much:
“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms… I am going there to prepare a place for you.”
Think about that. Jesus himself is preparing a place for Donald, just as Donald prepared a place for so many of us. A man who worked tirelessly so his family would never lack for anything is now welcomed into a place where he can finally rest. No more shifts to work. No more problems to solve. No more things to fix. Just peace.
But if we want to honor him today, we can’t just talk about what he did. We have to live what he taught. That means showing up for each other. That means working hard not just for ourselves, but for the people we love. That means lending a hand without expecting anything in return. That means being strong, but also knowing when to let others in.
And most of all—it means remembering that love, in the end, is the greatest thing we build. Donald built houses, careers, family traditions—but the greatest thing he ever built was a home full of love. And that love does not end today. It carries on in every story, every laugh, every lesson he passed down.
So yes, today we grieve. But we also give thanks. Because in Donald Jones, we were given a husband, a father, a grandfather, a friend—a man who worked hard, loved deeply, and left this world better than he found it.
And now, we let him go into the arms of God, trusting that the same God who watched over him in this life now welcomes him into eternity. Rest easy, Donald. Your work here is done. Prayer of Commendation and Gratitude
Loving and merciful God,
Into your hands, we commend your servant, Donald T. Jones,who lived a life of service, love, and unwavering dedication.We thank you for the strength of his hands, the kindness of his heart,and the countless ways he gave of himself to his family and friends.
Now, his work is done, his burdens are lifted,and he enters the peace you have prepared for him.Reunited with his beloved Millie, may he find joy in your presence,where there is no more toil, only rest in your eternal love.
Comfort his family with the hope of resurrection,and let the light of his love continue to shine in their hearts.
Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord,and let perpetual light shine upon him.May he rest in peace.
Amen.
Donald Jones was one of those rare few.
Now, if you knew Donald, you knew one thing for certain: he was a worker. Not just the kind of worker who punched a clock and did his duty, but the kind who saw every need, every problem, every challenge, and said, “I’ve got this.” Whether it was as a police officer in New York, a security supervisor, a handyman, a babysitter, or the guy who made sure your shoes were polished before you left the house—Donald didn’t just show up. He took care of things. And he took care of people.
And it wasn’t just about working hard. It was about responsibility. He grew up in a tough world—born in the middle of the Great Depression, raised by parents who had struggles of their own. He learned early that if you wanted something done, you did it yourself. If someone needed help, you didn’t ask why—they just got it. That’s why his children knew, without a doubt, that if they needed something, their father would make it happen. He worked multiple jobs at once, somehow stretched a cop’s salary into a Boston College education, and made sure that when his kids turned 17, a car appeared in the driveway. How? Who knows? Maybe Donald really did have a little magic in him.
But even the hardest worker has to have a soft spot. And Donald’s soft spot—his heart—was his family, especially his beloved Millie. Their love story started in childhood, two kids talking through bedroom windows, and it turned into a 71-year marriage that was built to last. And I imagine that when Donald arrived in heaven, Millie took one look at him and said, “What are you doing here so soon?” And knowing Donald, he probably just grinned and said, “You didn’t think I was going to let you get settled in without me, did you?”
He was a provider, yes—but more than that, he was a presence. A presence in his children’s lives, in his grandchildren’s adventures, in the memories of family vacations, in the lessons he taught without ever giving a lecture. When his grandkids talk about him, they don’t just remember a grandfather. They remember a playmate, an inventor, a storyteller (though the accuracy of those stories is still up for debate). He was the kind of man who could take a tissue box and turn it into a guitar, who could make a raft out of two-by-fours (even if they weren’t the right length), and who somehow turned cleaning a bar at 3:30 in the morning into a master class on discipline and work ethic.
And let’s be honest—he had a streak of stubbornness, too. He wasn’t the kind of man who wanted help. If something was broken, he would fix it. If someone was in trouble, he would handle it. If he had to use a walker, well… maybe he’d rather just stay home. He didn’t want people to see him as weak because, for his whole life, he had been the strong one. The dependable one. The one who showed up.
That’s why the words of Jesus in today’s Gospel mean so much:
“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms… I am going there to prepare a place for you.”
Think about that. Jesus himself is preparing a place for Donald, just as Donald prepared a place for so many of us. A man who worked tirelessly so his family would never lack for anything is now welcomed into a place where he can finally rest. No more shifts to work. No more problems to solve. No more things to fix. Just peace.
But if we want to honor him today, we can’t just talk about what he did. We have to live what he taught. That means showing up for each other. That means working hard not just for ourselves, but for the people we love. That means lending a hand without expecting anything in return. That means being strong, but also knowing when to let others in.
And most of all—it means remembering that love, in the end, is the greatest thing we build. Donald built houses, careers, family traditions—but the greatest thing he ever built was a home full of love. And that love does not end today. It carries on in every story, every laugh, every lesson he passed down.
So yes, today we grieve. But we also give thanks. Because in Donald Jones, we were given a husband, a father, a grandfather, a friend—a man who worked hard, loved deeply, and left this world better than he found it.
And now, we let him go into the arms of God, trusting that the same God who watched over him in this life now welcomes him into eternity. Rest easy, Donald. Your work here is done. Prayer of Commendation and Gratitude
Loving and merciful God,
Into your hands, we commend your servant, Donald T. Jones,who lived a life of service, love, and unwavering dedication.We thank you for the strength of his hands, the kindness of his heart,and the countless ways he gave of himself to his family and friends.
Now, his work is done, his burdens are lifted,and he enters the peace you have prepared for him.Reunited with his beloved Millie, may he find joy in your presence,where there is no more toil, only rest in your eternal love.
Comfort his family with the hope of resurrection,and let the light of his love continue to shine in their hearts.
Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord,and let perpetual light shine upon him.May he rest in peace.
Amen.
Amelia A. “Millie” Cannon 03-07-2025
There’s a woman I once knew—maybe you’ve known someone like her too. She was the kind of person who could turn the most ordinary moment into something special. If you sat at her table, you never left hungry—not just for food, but for laughter, for warmth, for that sense of belonging that she carried with her everywhere. She had a knack for knowing just what to say, whether you needed comfort or just a little sarcasm to lighten the mood. She was the friend who made you feel like the most important person in the world, the sister who was always there, the woman whose presence made life richer.
That woman was Millie.
To know Millie was to know a woman of immense kindness, quick wit, and effortless grace. She was stylish, yes—always put together just right—but her true beauty was in how she made others feel. Whether she was baking in the kitchen, helping someone find the perfect outfit at Lenora’s, or simply picking up the phone to check in, she made people feel seen, valued, and loved.
And isn’t that what we all long for? To be loved like that?
In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells His disciples:
“Do not let your hearts be troubled. You have faith in God; have faith also in me. In my Father’s house, there are many dwelling places. If there were not, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you?”
Millie knew what it meant to create a home—not just a physical space, but a place where people felt safe, welcomed, and cherished. That’s who she was. And I can’t help but imagine that when she arrived at her eternal home, Jesus Himself greeted her with the same warmth she showed to so many. Maybe He even said, “Come on in, Millie. We’ve been waiting for you.”
Her life was filled with love, but also with loss. She faced heartache with quiet strength, losing her first husband far too soon and later caring for her second husband through his final years. Yet even through sorrow, she never lost her spirit. She kept moving forward, kept loving, kept laughing.
Her sister Jean, who loved her so deeply, shared how Millie was not just a sister, but a best friend. There was no separation between them—just a bond so strong that even death cannot break it. Jean, I know your heart aches in ways words cannot express, but I also know that love like yours and Millie’s does not end. It lives on in the stories, in the laughter, in the countless ways she shaped your life.
And to all of you who knew Millie—whether you called her sister, friend, stepmother, grandmother, or “Gamba”—you carry her with you. Every time you hear a witty remark and think, That’s something Millie would say, every time you enjoy a meal and remember the way she made food taste like love, every time you pick up the phone to call someone just to check in—you are continuing the legacy of who she was.
Yes, our hearts grieve today. But we do not grieve without hope. Because the same Jesus who welcomed Millie home has also promised that this is not the end. One day, we will see her again. And knowing Millie, she’ll have a table ready, a meal prepared, and just the right words to make us laugh through our tears.
Until that day, we entrust her to God’s care.
Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon her. Amen. Final Commendation & Prayer of Gratitude for Her Life
Into Your hands, O Lord, we commend our sister Millie. In life, You blessed her with a generous heart, a joyful spirit, and a deep love for those around her. Now, as she enters into the fullness of Your peace, we thank You for the countless ways she reflected Your goodness in our midst.
Lord, comfort those who grieve, especially Jean, her beloved family, and all who held her dear. May the love she shared remain alive in us, inspiring us to carry forward her kindness, her laughter, and her unwavering care for others.
Welcome her home, Lord, with the same warmth she so often gave to others. May she find rest in Your eternal embrace and rejoice in the company of all the saints.
Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace.
Amen.
That woman was Millie.
To know Millie was to know a woman of immense kindness, quick wit, and effortless grace. She was stylish, yes—always put together just right—but her true beauty was in how she made others feel. Whether she was baking in the kitchen, helping someone find the perfect outfit at Lenora’s, or simply picking up the phone to check in, she made people feel seen, valued, and loved.
And isn’t that what we all long for? To be loved like that?
In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells His disciples:
“Do not let your hearts be troubled. You have faith in God; have faith also in me. In my Father’s house, there are many dwelling places. If there were not, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you?”
Millie knew what it meant to create a home—not just a physical space, but a place where people felt safe, welcomed, and cherished. That’s who she was. And I can’t help but imagine that when she arrived at her eternal home, Jesus Himself greeted her with the same warmth she showed to so many. Maybe He even said, “Come on in, Millie. We’ve been waiting for you.”
Her life was filled with love, but also with loss. She faced heartache with quiet strength, losing her first husband far too soon and later caring for her second husband through his final years. Yet even through sorrow, she never lost her spirit. She kept moving forward, kept loving, kept laughing.
Her sister Jean, who loved her so deeply, shared how Millie was not just a sister, but a best friend. There was no separation between them—just a bond so strong that even death cannot break it. Jean, I know your heart aches in ways words cannot express, but I also know that love like yours and Millie’s does not end. It lives on in the stories, in the laughter, in the countless ways she shaped your life.
And to all of you who knew Millie—whether you called her sister, friend, stepmother, grandmother, or “Gamba”—you carry her with you. Every time you hear a witty remark and think, That’s something Millie would say, every time you enjoy a meal and remember the way she made food taste like love, every time you pick up the phone to call someone just to check in—you are continuing the legacy of who she was.
Yes, our hearts grieve today. But we do not grieve without hope. Because the same Jesus who welcomed Millie home has also promised that this is not the end. One day, we will see her again. And knowing Millie, she’ll have a table ready, a meal prepared, and just the right words to make us laugh through our tears.
Until that day, we entrust her to God’s care.
Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon her. Amen. Final Commendation & Prayer of Gratitude for Her Life
Into Your hands, O Lord, we commend our sister Millie. In life, You blessed her with a generous heart, a joyful spirit, and a deep love for those around her. Now, as she enters into the fullness of Your peace, we thank You for the countless ways she reflected Your goodness in our midst.
Lord, comfort those who grieve, especially Jean, her beloved family, and all who held her dear. May the love she shared remain alive in us, inspiring us to carry forward her kindness, her laughter, and her unwavering care for others.
Welcome her home, Lord, with the same warmth she so often gave to others. May she find rest in Your eternal embrace and rejoice in the company of all the saints.
Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace.
Amen.
Kathryn Fisk 02-20-2025
There is a story about a woman who received a call in the middle of the night. It was the kind of call that changes everything—the kind that sets your heart racing before your feet even hit the floor.
Her grandchild was on the way.
For most people, this would mean a hurried but careful drive, making sure they had everything they needed before setting out. But not this woman. No, when Kathryn Fisk had a mission, she didn’t just go—she charged forward.
She jumped behind the wheel, and with Paul by her side, she hit the road. The hospital was more than an hour away, but time was not something Kathryn ever let stand in her way. She weaved through traffic with determination, her mind fixed on her destination.
She made it in 45 minutes.
For anyone else, this might have been reckless. For Kathryn, it was simply who she was. She didn’t wait for life to come to her—she chased it down. Always in motion, always planning, always doing whatever needed to be done.
She did not hesitate. She did not waste time. She showed up—fully and completely—for the people she loved.
And isn’t that how she lived her entire life? Whether it was for her family, her career, or her fight against cancer, Kathryn never slowed down when it mattered. She never backed away from a challenge. She never let an obstacle keep her from where she needed to be.
And now, in this moment of loss, when our hearts are heavy, we are reminded of another journey—one that Jesus himself spoke about:
“Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you?” (John 14:1-2)
Kathryn understood what it meant to prepare. She spent her life making sure everything was in order—whether it was in her career, for her family, or even in her battle with illness. And now, we trust that she has arrived at a place that has been prepared for her, a place where there is no more racing, no more fighting, only the peace of being home.
A Life of Tenacity and Love
If you knew Kathryn, you knew one thing for certain: she was driven.
She never did anything halfway. When she set her mind to something—whether it was earning multiple degrees, breaking barriers in the corporate world, or raising three incredible sons—she gave it everything she had.
And yet, for all her professional success, if you asked her what mattered most, she wouldn’t point to her accolades or career titles. She would point to her husband, Paul. She would point to her sons—Brent, Gregory, and Tyler. She would point to her grandchildren—Makayla, Brayden, and Lucy.
Because at her core, Kathryn was a giver.
She gave of herself fully—her time, her energy, her heart. If her children had an interest, she invested in it. If they wanted to snowboard, she found the best snowboards. If they played hockey, she made sure they had every piece of gear they needed. If they wanted to golf, she didn’t just sign them up—she got them lessons.
And as a grandmother, she delighted in the simple joys—like taking her grandkids to McDonald’s and the Dollar Tree. Kathryn didn’t need extravagance to show love. She gave what mattered most: her presence, her support, her unwavering devotion.
She was also a woman of humor and strength, someone who knew how to play a competitive game of cribbage or argue over the answers in Trivial Pursuit. And if she got behind the wheel? You had better buckle up—because no one, not even traffic, was going to slow her down.
Fighting for Time
When Kathryn was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, the doctors gave her 90 days.
But Kathryn wasn’t the kind of woman who accepted limits. Instead of despair, she did what she had done her entire life—she rolled up her sleeves and got to work.
She researched treatments. She flew to Europe for cutting-edge therapies. She consulted with the best oncologists in the world.
She outlasted every single expectation.
She turned 90 days into three and a half years.
And she did not do this because she feared death. She did it because she loved life. She wanted more time with her family. And because of her determination, she got it.
Even in her final years, as her body weakened, she never stopped giving. She still sent gifts. She still made phone calls. She still checked in on the people she loved.
And this is where we see the deeper truth of the Gospel
“You know the way to the place where I am going.”
Thomas said to him, “Lord, we don’t know where you are going, so how can we know the way?”
Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”
Kathryn knew the way. She lived with love, with sacrifice, with perseverance. And we trust that Jesus, who prepared a place for her, has now welcomed her home.
The Lesson She Leaves Us
Kathryn’s life teaches us something profound.
It teaches us to show up—to be there for the people who need us, no matter the obstacles.
It teaches us to fight for what is right, even when the odds seem impossible.
It teaches us to never take time for granted, because every single moment is a gift.
And perhaps most importantly, it teaches us that love does not end.
Kathryn’s love lives on—in Paul’s heart, in the memories of her children, in the laughter of her grandchildren, in the stories that will be told and retold for years to come.
And one day, when we reach the end of our own journey, I like to imagine Kathryn will be waiting for us—probably a little impatient, wondering what took us so long.
And on that day, we won’t need to race anymore.
We will be home.
May she rest in the peace of Christ. Amen. Prayer of Commendation and Gratitude for Kathryn M. Fisk
Loving and merciful God,we come before You today with hearts both sorrowful and grateful—sorrowful for the loss of Kathryn, whom we love so dearly,yet grateful for the gift of her life, for the love she shared,and for the ways she enriched our lives with her strength, wisdom, and kindness.
We thank You for the many blessings You poured upon her—for her devotion as a wife, mother, and grandmother,for her unwavering determination in every challenge,for her generosity, her laughter, and the deep love she had for her family and friends.She was a woman who never hesitated to show up, to fight for what mattered,and to give of herself fully to those she cherished.
Now, Lord, we entrust Kathryn into Your loving arms.May she find rest in the place You have prepared for her,where there is no more pain, no more struggle, only peace and joy in Your presence.Wipe away the tears from our eyes, and fill our hearts with the hope of resurrection,knowing that one day, we too will be gathered into Your eternal embrace.
We commend Kathryn to You with love and faith,confident that You, O Lord, are the Way, the Truth, and the Life.
Grant her eternal rest, and let perpetual light shine upon her.May her soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed,through the mercy of God, rest in peace.
Amen.
Her grandchild was on the way.
For most people, this would mean a hurried but careful drive, making sure they had everything they needed before setting out. But not this woman. No, when Kathryn Fisk had a mission, she didn’t just go—she charged forward.
She jumped behind the wheel, and with Paul by her side, she hit the road. The hospital was more than an hour away, but time was not something Kathryn ever let stand in her way. She weaved through traffic with determination, her mind fixed on her destination.
She made it in 45 minutes.
For anyone else, this might have been reckless. For Kathryn, it was simply who she was. She didn’t wait for life to come to her—she chased it down. Always in motion, always planning, always doing whatever needed to be done.
She did not hesitate. She did not waste time. She showed up—fully and completely—for the people she loved.
And isn’t that how she lived her entire life? Whether it was for her family, her career, or her fight against cancer, Kathryn never slowed down when it mattered. She never backed away from a challenge. She never let an obstacle keep her from where she needed to be.
And now, in this moment of loss, when our hearts are heavy, we are reminded of another journey—one that Jesus himself spoke about:
“Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you?” (John 14:1-2)
Kathryn understood what it meant to prepare. She spent her life making sure everything was in order—whether it was in her career, for her family, or even in her battle with illness. And now, we trust that she has arrived at a place that has been prepared for her, a place where there is no more racing, no more fighting, only the peace of being home.
A Life of Tenacity and Love
If you knew Kathryn, you knew one thing for certain: she was driven.
She never did anything halfway. When she set her mind to something—whether it was earning multiple degrees, breaking barriers in the corporate world, or raising three incredible sons—she gave it everything she had.
And yet, for all her professional success, if you asked her what mattered most, she wouldn’t point to her accolades or career titles. She would point to her husband, Paul. She would point to her sons—Brent, Gregory, and Tyler. She would point to her grandchildren—Makayla, Brayden, and Lucy.
Because at her core, Kathryn was a giver.
She gave of herself fully—her time, her energy, her heart. If her children had an interest, she invested in it. If they wanted to snowboard, she found the best snowboards. If they played hockey, she made sure they had every piece of gear they needed. If they wanted to golf, she didn’t just sign them up—she got them lessons.
And as a grandmother, she delighted in the simple joys—like taking her grandkids to McDonald’s and the Dollar Tree. Kathryn didn’t need extravagance to show love. She gave what mattered most: her presence, her support, her unwavering devotion.
She was also a woman of humor and strength, someone who knew how to play a competitive game of cribbage or argue over the answers in Trivial Pursuit. And if she got behind the wheel? You had better buckle up—because no one, not even traffic, was going to slow her down.
Fighting for Time
When Kathryn was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, the doctors gave her 90 days.
But Kathryn wasn’t the kind of woman who accepted limits. Instead of despair, she did what she had done her entire life—she rolled up her sleeves and got to work.
She researched treatments. She flew to Europe for cutting-edge therapies. She consulted with the best oncologists in the world.
She outlasted every single expectation.
She turned 90 days into three and a half years.
And she did not do this because she feared death. She did it because she loved life. She wanted more time with her family. And because of her determination, she got it.
Even in her final years, as her body weakened, she never stopped giving. She still sent gifts. She still made phone calls. She still checked in on the people she loved.
And this is where we see the deeper truth of the Gospel
“You know the way to the place where I am going.”
Thomas said to him, “Lord, we don’t know where you are going, so how can we know the way?”
Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”
Kathryn knew the way. She lived with love, with sacrifice, with perseverance. And we trust that Jesus, who prepared a place for her, has now welcomed her home.
The Lesson She Leaves Us
Kathryn’s life teaches us something profound.
It teaches us to show up—to be there for the people who need us, no matter the obstacles.
It teaches us to fight for what is right, even when the odds seem impossible.
It teaches us to never take time for granted, because every single moment is a gift.
And perhaps most importantly, it teaches us that love does not end.
Kathryn’s love lives on—in Paul’s heart, in the memories of her children, in the laughter of her grandchildren, in the stories that will be told and retold for years to come.
And one day, when we reach the end of our own journey, I like to imagine Kathryn will be waiting for us—probably a little impatient, wondering what took us so long.
And on that day, we won’t need to race anymore.
We will be home.
May she rest in the peace of Christ. Amen. Prayer of Commendation and Gratitude for Kathryn M. Fisk
Loving and merciful God,we come before You today with hearts both sorrowful and grateful—sorrowful for the loss of Kathryn, whom we love so dearly,yet grateful for the gift of her life, for the love she shared,and for the ways she enriched our lives with her strength, wisdom, and kindness.
We thank You for the many blessings You poured upon her—for her devotion as a wife, mother, and grandmother,for her unwavering determination in every challenge,for her generosity, her laughter, and the deep love she had for her family and friends.She was a woman who never hesitated to show up, to fight for what mattered,and to give of herself fully to those she cherished.
Now, Lord, we entrust Kathryn into Your loving arms.May she find rest in the place You have prepared for her,where there is no more pain, no more struggle, only peace and joy in Your presence.Wipe away the tears from our eyes, and fill our hearts with the hope of resurrection,knowing that one day, we too will be gathered into Your eternal embrace.
We commend Kathryn to You with love and faith,confident that You, O Lord, are the Way, the Truth, and the Life.
Grant her eternal rest, and let perpetual light shine upon her.May her soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed,through the mercy of God, rest in peace.
Amen.
Peggy Mckinney 02-18-2025
One evening, years ago, a young nurse sat by the bedside of a frightened patient in the cardiac intensive care unit. The beeping machines and sterile walls made the room feel cold, but her presence filled it with warmth. She reached for the patient’s hand, looked into their eyes, and said with calm certainty, “We’re going to take care of you.”
That was Peggy.
It wasn’t just her medical skill that made her exceptional—it was the way she saw people, the way she reassured them, the way she gave of herself completely. Whether in the ICU, in her home with her husband and sons, or in the wider world where friends and even strangers sought her wisdom, Peggy lived as a woman of deep compassion and quiet strength.
Today, as we gather to mourn, we also gather to celebrate the gift of her life—a life that exemplified the very virtues we just heard in Scripture: the selfless devotion of the worthy wife in Proverbs, the enduring love described by St. Paul, and the Beatitudes of Christ himself, which were woven into every part of who Peggy was. The Book of Proverbs tells us:
“When one finds a worthy wife, her value is far beyond pearls. Her husband, entrusting his heart to her, has an unfailing prize.”
Jack found that prize in Peggy. They met on a lively night in downtown Chicago, but what endured beyond that night was a partnership built on faith, love, and trust. He was drawn not just to her beauty but to her kindness, her humor, her deep sense of caring for others.
Peggy was not just Jack’s wife—she was his steady companion, his greatest supporter, the heart of their home. She raised their four boys with devotion, learning sports she never grew up with, cheering at their games, guiding them with both tenderness and wisdom.
But her love extended beyond her own family. As Proverbs says,
“She reaches her hands to the poor and extends her arms to the needy.”
Peggy had a heart for people. She saw needs others might overlook. She offered advice and guidance—not because she wanted control, but because she genuinely wanted the best for those she loved. She was a peacemaker, always working to mend relationships, to bring people together.
Of all the roles Peggy played in life, perhaps the one she cherished most was that of mother.Being the mother of four boys is not for the faint of heart. It requires energy, patience, resilience, and a sense of humor. And Peggy had all of those in abundance.
She didn’t just raise her sons—she formed them, shaping their character with her wisdom, her faith, and her unconditional love. She was their biggest champion, their fiercest defender, and their most trusted advisor. She celebrated their victories and consoled them in their struggles.
Even though she grew up in a household of sisters, she immersed herself in the world of her boys. She learned baseball and football, cheered at games, and endured years of smelly gym bags and chaotic housefuls of their friends. And yet, as much as she embraced their world, she also made sure they embraced hers. She introduced them to her love of movies, music, and family traditions. She made sure they understood the importance of faith, of kindness, of treating others with respect.
St. Paul tells us in the second reading:
“Love is patient, love is kind. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails.”
That was Peggy’s love for her sons. It was patient. It was kind. It endured. And it never failed.
She could be strong-willed, and she certainly had opinions—especially when it came to their outfits or the state of their rooms! But beneath it all was a love so deep, so unwavering, that it shaped their lives forever.
One of her sons described it best: Mom always showed up. In the small moments, in the big moments, in the good times and the hard times—she was there. That is the measure of a mother’s love. And that is the legacy she leaves behind in her sons.
In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus teaches the Beatitudes, saying:
“Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.”
Peggy was a woman of mercy. She had an instinct for seeing when people were hurting—whether physically, emotionally, or spiritually. She had a special gift for peacemaking, for bringing people back together. If she sensed something was wrong in a family or among friends, she would step in, not forcefully, but with wisdom and patience.
She also lived the Beatitude of hungering and thirsting for righteousness. She was deeply committed to her faith. She made sure her sons received a strong Catholic foundation, and she lived that faith through her service to others. Whether working with her parish, helping with high school programs, or just being the person others turned to in times of crisis, she put her beliefs into action.
And today, we take comfort in another promise Jesus made in that same Gospel passage:
“Blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted.”
We are mourning today. We feel the ache of her absence. But Jesus assures us—this grief is not the end. God himself will comfort us. Peggy’s life was a life of faith, and that faith tells us she is not lost to us forever.
A Legacy of Love
There’s an old saying:
We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give.
Peggy made a beautiful life.
She gave her time, her wisdom, her love. She gave without expecting anything in return. And because she gave so fully, she was deeply loved in return.
Even in sorrow, we have something precious—we have the memories of her laughter, her strength, her guidance. We have the lessons she taught us. We have the love she poured into our lives.
And most importantly, we have hope. Hope in Christ’s promise that this is not the end. Hope in the Resurrection, where Peggy now stands in the presence of God, hearing those words we all long to hear:
“Well done, good and faithful servant… enter into the joy of your Lord.”
Let us honor her by striving to love as she did—patiently, generously, and with our whole hearts.
Prayer of Final Commendation and Gratitude
Let us now commend Peggy to the Lord with a prayer of gratitude for her life:
Heavenly Father,We thank You for the gift of Peggy McKinney, for the love she shared so freely, for the wisdom she offered so generously, for the faith that guided her every step.
We entrust her now to Your eternal embrace, where pain and suffering are no more, where peace and joy abound.
May she be reunited with those who have gone before her, and may she watch over us as we continue the journey she began—a journey of love, of kindness, of faith.
Grant her eternal rest, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon her. May her soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.
Amen.
That was Peggy.
It wasn’t just her medical skill that made her exceptional—it was the way she saw people, the way she reassured them, the way she gave of herself completely. Whether in the ICU, in her home with her husband and sons, or in the wider world where friends and even strangers sought her wisdom, Peggy lived as a woman of deep compassion and quiet strength.
Today, as we gather to mourn, we also gather to celebrate the gift of her life—a life that exemplified the very virtues we just heard in Scripture: the selfless devotion of the worthy wife in Proverbs, the enduring love described by St. Paul, and the Beatitudes of Christ himself, which were woven into every part of who Peggy was. The Book of Proverbs tells us:
“When one finds a worthy wife, her value is far beyond pearls. Her husband, entrusting his heart to her, has an unfailing prize.”
Jack found that prize in Peggy. They met on a lively night in downtown Chicago, but what endured beyond that night was a partnership built on faith, love, and trust. He was drawn not just to her beauty but to her kindness, her humor, her deep sense of caring for others.
Peggy was not just Jack’s wife—she was his steady companion, his greatest supporter, the heart of their home. She raised their four boys with devotion, learning sports she never grew up with, cheering at their games, guiding them with both tenderness and wisdom.
But her love extended beyond her own family. As Proverbs says,
“She reaches her hands to the poor and extends her arms to the needy.”
Peggy had a heart for people. She saw needs others might overlook. She offered advice and guidance—not because she wanted control, but because she genuinely wanted the best for those she loved. She was a peacemaker, always working to mend relationships, to bring people together.
Of all the roles Peggy played in life, perhaps the one she cherished most was that of mother.Being the mother of four boys is not for the faint of heart. It requires energy, patience, resilience, and a sense of humor. And Peggy had all of those in abundance.
She didn’t just raise her sons—she formed them, shaping their character with her wisdom, her faith, and her unconditional love. She was their biggest champion, their fiercest defender, and their most trusted advisor. She celebrated their victories and consoled them in their struggles.
Even though she grew up in a household of sisters, she immersed herself in the world of her boys. She learned baseball and football, cheered at games, and endured years of smelly gym bags and chaotic housefuls of their friends. And yet, as much as she embraced their world, she also made sure they embraced hers. She introduced them to her love of movies, music, and family traditions. She made sure they understood the importance of faith, of kindness, of treating others with respect.
St. Paul tells us in the second reading:
“Love is patient, love is kind. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails.”
That was Peggy’s love for her sons. It was patient. It was kind. It endured. And it never failed.
She could be strong-willed, and she certainly had opinions—especially when it came to their outfits or the state of their rooms! But beneath it all was a love so deep, so unwavering, that it shaped their lives forever.
One of her sons described it best: Mom always showed up. In the small moments, in the big moments, in the good times and the hard times—she was there. That is the measure of a mother’s love. And that is the legacy she leaves behind in her sons.
In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus teaches the Beatitudes, saying:
“Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.”
Peggy was a woman of mercy. She had an instinct for seeing when people were hurting—whether physically, emotionally, or spiritually. She had a special gift for peacemaking, for bringing people back together. If she sensed something was wrong in a family or among friends, she would step in, not forcefully, but with wisdom and patience.
She also lived the Beatitude of hungering and thirsting for righteousness. She was deeply committed to her faith. She made sure her sons received a strong Catholic foundation, and she lived that faith through her service to others. Whether working with her parish, helping with high school programs, or just being the person others turned to in times of crisis, she put her beliefs into action.
And today, we take comfort in another promise Jesus made in that same Gospel passage:
“Blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted.”
We are mourning today. We feel the ache of her absence. But Jesus assures us—this grief is not the end. God himself will comfort us. Peggy’s life was a life of faith, and that faith tells us she is not lost to us forever.
A Legacy of Love
There’s an old saying:
We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give.
Peggy made a beautiful life.
She gave her time, her wisdom, her love. She gave without expecting anything in return. And because she gave so fully, she was deeply loved in return.
Even in sorrow, we have something precious—we have the memories of her laughter, her strength, her guidance. We have the lessons she taught us. We have the love she poured into our lives.
And most importantly, we have hope. Hope in Christ’s promise that this is not the end. Hope in the Resurrection, where Peggy now stands in the presence of God, hearing those words we all long to hear:
“Well done, good and faithful servant… enter into the joy of your Lord.”
Let us honor her by striving to love as she did—patiently, generously, and with our whole hearts.
Prayer of Final Commendation and Gratitude
Let us now commend Peggy to the Lord with a prayer of gratitude for her life:
Heavenly Father,We thank You for the gift of Peggy McKinney, for the love she shared so freely, for the wisdom she offered so generously, for the faith that guided her every step.
We entrust her now to Your eternal embrace, where pain and suffering are no more, where peace and joy abound.
May she be reunited with those who have gone before her, and may she watch over us as we continue the journey she began—a journey of love, of kindness, of faith.
Grant her eternal rest, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon her. May her soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.
Amen.
Rose Mary Baker 02-18-2025
I want to begin with a simple but powerful image—a group of friends gathered around a table, laughter filling the room, a deck of cards shuffled between familiar hands, and in the middle of it all, Rose Mary. She wasn’t just playing a game; she was creating a space where people felt welcomed, cherished, and connected.
Rose Mary had a way of making others feel at home. Whether it was inviting a grieving friend over for a game of cards, making sure no one felt left out, or staying in touch with her loved ones despite the miles between them, she lived out a quiet but profound ministry of presence. She built a home—not just in the places she lived, but in the hearts of those who knew her.
It’s fitting, then, that in today’s Gospel, we hear Jesus’ comforting words in John 14:1-6:
“Do not let your hearts be troubled. You have faith in God; have faith also in me. In my Father’s house, there are many dwelling places… I am going to prepare a place for you.”
Just as Rose Mary created a place of love and belonging for those around her, Christ promises that He has prepared a place for her—a home in heaven that will never fade.
A Life Rooted in Faith and Family
Rose Mary’s life was built on faith. She attended Saint Bernard College in Alabama, where she deepened her Catholic education, and from that point forward, her faith was her anchor, her guide, and her strength.
She was not just a Sunday Catholic—she lived her faith. Whether it was serving in the church ladies’ group, keeping careful watch over parish finances as treasurer, or raising her children with a deep love for God, her life reflected her devotion.
She also understood that faith is not only about prayers and sacraments—it’s about love in action. She reached out to others in their time of need, was steadfast in her friendships, and remained a source of strength for her family.
Her sons, Jeff and Greg, grew up in a home where faith was a priority. Mass, sacraments, and faith formation were not optional—they were essential. She was firm, not stern, in making sure her children were raised with a foundation that would carry them through life.
Her love extended to every part of life—including the small things. Whether it was making her famous lasagna and chili, encouraging Greg to always give 100% in whatever he pursued, or supporting Jeff in his passion for music, she embodied what it meant to be fully present, fully committed, and fully loving.
She even endured the noise of a makeshift rock band in her basement, showing patience and love, making lunch for the kids when they took a break—even though she probably wondered if her ears would ever recover. That was Rose Mary—supportive, generous, and always putting others first, even when it meant suffering through some musical performances!
And as a grandmother, her love was boundless. She traveled thousands of miles each year to be with her grandsons, William, Carson, and Harrison, never letting distance diminish her presence in their lives. When she could no longer make the trips, she made sure they still felt her love—through phone calls, letters, and prayers.
A Woman of Strength, Joy, and Sacrifice
Rose Mary’s life was full of love, sacrifice, and quiet resilience.
She began her career as an English teacher, and when she married Robert, she worked tirelessly to support him as he pursued his dream of becoming a dentist. Later, she helped manage his practice and stood by his side through every success and struggle.
When she lost Robert in 1998, she faced a decision—return to familiar places or stay in Bonita Springs, where she had built a new home and community. She chose to stay, leaning on her church family, finding friendship, purpose, and joy even in grief.
The Home Christ Has Prepared
Rose Mary lived her life creating a home—not just in the places she lived, but in the way she loved. And now, Christ has welcomed her into her true home, the one He has been preparing for her all along.
Jesus’ words in John 14 are not just a promise; they are a reality for those who trust in Him. Rose Mary believed in that promise. She built her life on faith, on family, and on the love of Christ.
And so, today, we grieve—but not as those without hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13). We celebrate a life that was well-lived, full of love, and faithful to the end.
To honor Rose Mary, let us carry forward the lessons she taught us:
• Love generously. • Show up for others. • Make time for faith. • Cherish family. • And when in doubt, gather with friends, play a game of cards, and share some ice cream. Prayer of Commendation
Into Your hands, O Lord, we commend Your servant Rose Mary.
We thank You for the gift of her life, for the love she shared, for the faith that sustained her, and for the joy she brought to those around her. She was a mother, a grandmother, a friend, and a woman of faith who touched many lives with her kindness and generosity.
Lord, receive her into Your presence, where there is no more suffering, no more sorrow, but only the joy of eternal life. Grant that we who remain may be strengthened in faith, comforted in our sorrow, and inspired by her example.
As we now entrust her to Your mercy, we ask that You welcome her home, where she will find rest in Your everlasting love.
Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Rose Mary had a way of making others feel at home. Whether it was inviting a grieving friend over for a game of cards, making sure no one felt left out, or staying in touch with her loved ones despite the miles between them, she lived out a quiet but profound ministry of presence. She built a home—not just in the places she lived, but in the hearts of those who knew her.
It’s fitting, then, that in today’s Gospel, we hear Jesus’ comforting words in John 14:1-6:
“Do not let your hearts be troubled. You have faith in God; have faith also in me. In my Father’s house, there are many dwelling places… I am going to prepare a place for you.”
Just as Rose Mary created a place of love and belonging for those around her, Christ promises that He has prepared a place for her—a home in heaven that will never fade.
A Life Rooted in Faith and Family
Rose Mary’s life was built on faith. She attended Saint Bernard College in Alabama, where she deepened her Catholic education, and from that point forward, her faith was her anchor, her guide, and her strength.
She was not just a Sunday Catholic—she lived her faith. Whether it was serving in the church ladies’ group, keeping careful watch over parish finances as treasurer, or raising her children with a deep love for God, her life reflected her devotion.
She also understood that faith is not only about prayers and sacraments—it’s about love in action. She reached out to others in their time of need, was steadfast in her friendships, and remained a source of strength for her family.
Her sons, Jeff and Greg, grew up in a home where faith was a priority. Mass, sacraments, and faith formation were not optional—they were essential. She was firm, not stern, in making sure her children were raised with a foundation that would carry them through life.
Her love extended to every part of life—including the small things. Whether it was making her famous lasagna and chili, encouraging Greg to always give 100% in whatever he pursued, or supporting Jeff in his passion for music, she embodied what it meant to be fully present, fully committed, and fully loving.
She even endured the noise of a makeshift rock band in her basement, showing patience and love, making lunch for the kids when they took a break—even though she probably wondered if her ears would ever recover. That was Rose Mary—supportive, generous, and always putting others first, even when it meant suffering through some musical performances!
And as a grandmother, her love was boundless. She traveled thousands of miles each year to be with her grandsons, William, Carson, and Harrison, never letting distance diminish her presence in their lives. When she could no longer make the trips, she made sure they still felt her love—through phone calls, letters, and prayers.
A Woman of Strength, Joy, and Sacrifice
Rose Mary’s life was full of love, sacrifice, and quiet resilience.
She began her career as an English teacher, and when she married Robert, she worked tirelessly to support him as he pursued his dream of becoming a dentist. Later, she helped manage his practice and stood by his side through every success and struggle.
When she lost Robert in 1998, she faced a decision—return to familiar places or stay in Bonita Springs, where she had built a new home and community. She chose to stay, leaning on her church family, finding friendship, purpose, and joy even in grief.
The Home Christ Has Prepared
Rose Mary lived her life creating a home—not just in the places she lived, but in the way she loved. And now, Christ has welcomed her into her true home, the one He has been preparing for her all along.
Jesus’ words in John 14 are not just a promise; they are a reality for those who trust in Him. Rose Mary believed in that promise. She built her life on faith, on family, and on the love of Christ.
And so, today, we grieve—but not as those without hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13). We celebrate a life that was well-lived, full of love, and faithful to the end.
To honor Rose Mary, let us carry forward the lessons she taught us:
• Love generously. • Show up for others. • Make time for faith. • Cherish family. • And when in doubt, gather with friends, play a game of cards, and share some ice cream. Prayer of Commendation
Into Your hands, O Lord, we commend Your servant Rose Mary.
We thank You for the gift of her life, for the love she shared, for the faith that sustained her, and for the joy she brought to those around her. She was a mother, a grandmother, a friend, and a woman of faith who touched many lives with her kindness and generosity.
Lord, receive her into Your presence, where there is no more suffering, no more sorrow, but only the joy of eternal life. Grant that we who remain may be strengthened in faith, comforted in our sorrow, and inspired by her example.
As we now entrust her to Your mercy, we ask that You welcome her home, where she will find rest in Your everlasting love.
Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
edward Demartin 02-07-2025
I want to tell you a story about a man who, as a boy, had a rather unconventional way of solving problems. One day, a neighborhood friend shot an arrow straight up into the sky. Everyone else did the sensible thing—they dropped to the ground. But this young man had his own logic. He reasoned that lying flat would make him a bigger target. So instead, he stood straight up, confident in his thinking.
The arrow, of course, came down and struck him in the head. Thankfully, he survived. And from that day on, his friends called him Arrowhead Eddie. That boy grew into Edward deMartin—quick-witted, analytical, and always looking at the world through his own unique lens. He had a gift for observation, a talent for design, and a knack for making people laugh at just the right moment.
Today, as we gather to honor him, we celebrate not just his remarkable career but the love, humor, and steady presence that defined him as a husband, father, and friend. In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells us: “Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms… I am going there to prepare a place for you.”
Edward spent his life designing spaces—exhibits, logos, and corporate identities that shaped how people saw the world. And now, we reflect on the greatest design of all: the place God has prepared for him. Just as Edward poured his creativity into his work, God, the master architect, has crafted a home for him in eternity.
Edward was a man of vision. His work in graphic design left an enduring mark—Major League Baseball, IBM, the World’s Fair, corporate branding. His designs won awards, even gracing the Louvre. But to you, his family, his greatest masterpiece was not his career—it was the life he built with you.
He worked alongside you, his children, sharing time and stories, shaping you into the men and women you are today. He encouraged you, nurturing your passion for design, inspiring your creative journey. But beyond work, he was always there—cheering at baseball games, unwinding with you in front of Laugh-In, balancing the pressures of leadership with the joy of home.
Marie, you were a beautiful chapter in Edward’s life. After Virginia’s passing, you brought warmth and companionship when he needed it most. Together, you embraced life’s simple joys—movies, travel, and quiet evenings. You cared for him deeply, offering him the same stability he had always given to others. You were a source of love and comfort, and he was grateful for you.
Edward was a man who thought deeply about the world, and that included faith. He had questions—especially about the more extraordinary stories of the Old Testament. But faith isn’t about having all the answers—it’s about seeking, wondering, and trusting in the love of God. And at his core, Edward believed in the message. He found solace in prayer, in lighting candles for Virginia, in the quiet moments of reflection. His faith may have been filled with questions, but it was also filled with sincerity.
And that brings us back to today’s Gospel. Thomas, much like Edward, was a thinker—one who wanted clarity, who wanted to understand. When Jesus spoke of preparing a place, Thomas asked: “Lord, we don’t know where you are going, so how can we know the way?” And Jesus answered with the words that are at the heart of our faith: “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”
Edward, like Thomas, sought truth. And today, we trust that he has found it—not through design or reason, but in the arms of a loving God, who has welcomed him into the perfectly designed place for him. Prayer of Commendation and Gratitude
Loving and merciful God, we give you thanks for the life of Edward deMartin,for the love he shared, the laughter he inspired, and the wisdom he imparted.
You blessed him with creativity, vision, and a generous heart, and in turn, he blessed his family, his friends, and all who knew him. As we commend him now to your loving embrace, we trust in your promise that you have prepared a place for him, a home where sorrow is no more and joy is everlasting.
Lord, grant comfort to those who grieve, strength to those who carry his memory, and peace to all who were touched by his life. May his spirit live on in the hearts of those he loved, and may he now rest in the fullness of your eternal light.
We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.
The arrow, of course, came down and struck him in the head. Thankfully, he survived. And from that day on, his friends called him Arrowhead Eddie. That boy grew into Edward deMartin—quick-witted, analytical, and always looking at the world through his own unique lens. He had a gift for observation, a talent for design, and a knack for making people laugh at just the right moment.
Today, as we gather to honor him, we celebrate not just his remarkable career but the love, humor, and steady presence that defined him as a husband, father, and friend. In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells us: “Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms… I am going there to prepare a place for you.”
Edward spent his life designing spaces—exhibits, logos, and corporate identities that shaped how people saw the world. And now, we reflect on the greatest design of all: the place God has prepared for him. Just as Edward poured his creativity into his work, God, the master architect, has crafted a home for him in eternity.
Edward was a man of vision. His work in graphic design left an enduring mark—Major League Baseball, IBM, the World’s Fair, corporate branding. His designs won awards, even gracing the Louvre. But to you, his family, his greatest masterpiece was not his career—it was the life he built with you.
He worked alongside you, his children, sharing time and stories, shaping you into the men and women you are today. He encouraged you, nurturing your passion for design, inspiring your creative journey. But beyond work, he was always there—cheering at baseball games, unwinding with you in front of Laugh-In, balancing the pressures of leadership with the joy of home.
Marie, you were a beautiful chapter in Edward’s life. After Virginia’s passing, you brought warmth and companionship when he needed it most. Together, you embraced life’s simple joys—movies, travel, and quiet evenings. You cared for him deeply, offering him the same stability he had always given to others. You were a source of love and comfort, and he was grateful for you.
Edward was a man who thought deeply about the world, and that included faith. He had questions—especially about the more extraordinary stories of the Old Testament. But faith isn’t about having all the answers—it’s about seeking, wondering, and trusting in the love of God. And at his core, Edward believed in the message. He found solace in prayer, in lighting candles for Virginia, in the quiet moments of reflection. His faith may have been filled with questions, but it was also filled with sincerity.
And that brings us back to today’s Gospel. Thomas, much like Edward, was a thinker—one who wanted clarity, who wanted to understand. When Jesus spoke of preparing a place, Thomas asked: “Lord, we don’t know where you are going, so how can we know the way?” And Jesus answered with the words that are at the heart of our faith: “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”
Edward, like Thomas, sought truth. And today, we trust that he has found it—not through design or reason, but in the arms of a loving God, who has welcomed him into the perfectly designed place for him. Prayer of Commendation and Gratitude
Loving and merciful God, we give you thanks for the life of Edward deMartin,for the love he shared, the laughter he inspired, and the wisdom he imparted.
You blessed him with creativity, vision, and a generous heart, and in turn, he blessed his family, his friends, and all who knew him. As we commend him now to your loving embrace, we trust in your promise that you have prepared a place for him, a home where sorrow is no more and joy is everlasting.
Lord, grant comfort to those who grieve, strength to those who carry his memory, and peace to all who were touched by his life. May his spirit live on in the hearts of those he loved, and may he now rest in the fullness of your eternal light.
We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.
Teri Magdalene 01-31-2025
There was a woman who had a big heart and an even bigger sense of duty when it came to taking care of things. One day, she received a beautiful potted plant as a gift. Wanting to keep it thriving, she diligently watered it every day, carefully wiping up the excess water that always seemed to spill over. But no matter what she did, the plant never seemed to change. Weeks went by, and she continued her routine—water, wipe, repeat. Until one day, her daughter came over, took one look at the situation, and burst into laughter.
“Mom,” she said, “that’s a plastic plant!”
Now, most people would have felt a little embarrassed. But not Teri. She just shrugged and laughed right along. Because whether the plant was real or fake, it didn’t matter—she was going to love it, care for it, and give it her full attention. That was just who she was. She loved without hesitation. She gave without expecting anything in return. And she found joy in caring for others, even when they didn’t realize they needed it.
That’s the kind of person Teri was.
She was a devoted wife—the kind of wife who knew her husband better than he knew himself. And their love story? It started when she was just 12 years old, walking down the block while he played catch in the street. That young girl would one day become his wife, his partner for 58 years. He may have thought he was in charge, but she was always two steps ahead, making sure everything was taken care of. And in those quiet moments, when he was watching TV with his plate of food instead of sitting at the dinner table—she let him be. But not without making a comment about it first!
She was a mother who gave her children everything—not just food on the table and rides to practice, but a sense of adventure, a love for learning, and a childhood filled with memories. She wasn’t content with them just sitting around on school breaks—no, she packed them up, took them to museums, and made sure life was full of experiences. And when they got older, she was still there—caring, worrying, and loving them just as fiercely as when they were young.
She was a sister in the truest sense—not just by blood, but by friendship. From the time they were little, she made sure her younger sisters were included, dragging them along wherever she went. As the years passed, that bond never broke. There were road trips, late-night conversations, and so much laughter—especially the kind that comes from shared memories of ridiculous mishaps, like the time the RV lost power in the middle of the night, or when the kids discovered their bathroom wasn’t hooked up quite as it should have been.
And Teri was the kind of person who made a house a home. If you ever came to one of her family gatherings, you probably noticed the sticky notes on the table—every dish had its assigned spot. She had a system, and it worked. And every Saturday morning, she was up early, baking muffins—not just for her family, but for the golf course crew at Spanish Wells. They affectionately called her “The Muffin Lady.” Because that’s what Teri did—she made sure people were cared for, whether through food, hospitality, or a well-placed sticky note to keep things running smoothly.
But today, we gather with heavy hearts. We feel the weight of her absence. We miss the warmth of her presence, the sound of her voice, the way she could turn a simple moment into something unforgettable.
And in this grief, we turn to the Gospel. We remember when Jesus stood before the tomb of His friend Lazarus. He knew He had the power to bring him back, and yet—before He did anything—He wept. He wept because grief is the price of love. And today, we weep because we loved deeply.
But just as Jesus did not leave Lazarus in the tomb, He does not leave us in despair. He reminds us that life is not ended, but changed. That love—the kind of love that was poured into every meal, every holiday gathering, every moment of selfless care—does not simply vanish. It continues. It continues in the husband who still hears her voice in the back of his mind, in the children who carry her lessons forward, in the sisters who still laugh at the memories that will never fade.
So yes, we grieve today. But we also hold onto hope. Hope that she is now in the arms of the God who made her, welcomed her home, and—let’s be honest—probably got a fresh batch of muffins the moment she arrived.
May we honor her life by living as she did—loving fully, giving generously, and, if we must, watering even the plastic plants.
Prayer of Commendation and Thanksgiving for Teri
Heavenly Father, we commend Teri to Your loving embrace,trusting in Your mercy and the promise of eternal life.We thank You for the gift of her life,for the love she so freely shared,for the kindness she showed,and for the joy she brought to those around her.
Lord, You walked with her in this life,guiding her through its joys and challenges.Now, as she rests in Your peace,may she know the fullness of Your presence,where there is no more pain, no more sorrow, only everlasting joy.
Comfort those who mourn her passing,fill their hearts with the hope of reunion in Your heavenly kingdom,and let her love continue to shine in the lives of all who knew her.
May perpetual light shine upon her,and may she rest in Your peace.
Through Christ our Lord. Amen.
“Mom,” she said, “that’s a plastic plant!”
Now, most people would have felt a little embarrassed. But not Teri. She just shrugged and laughed right along. Because whether the plant was real or fake, it didn’t matter—she was going to love it, care for it, and give it her full attention. That was just who she was. She loved without hesitation. She gave without expecting anything in return. And she found joy in caring for others, even when they didn’t realize they needed it.
That’s the kind of person Teri was.
She was a devoted wife—the kind of wife who knew her husband better than he knew himself. And their love story? It started when she was just 12 years old, walking down the block while he played catch in the street. That young girl would one day become his wife, his partner for 58 years. He may have thought he was in charge, but she was always two steps ahead, making sure everything was taken care of. And in those quiet moments, when he was watching TV with his plate of food instead of sitting at the dinner table—she let him be. But not without making a comment about it first!
She was a mother who gave her children everything—not just food on the table and rides to practice, but a sense of adventure, a love for learning, and a childhood filled with memories. She wasn’t content with them just sitting around on school breaks—no, she packed them up, took them to museums, and made sure life was full of experiences. And when they got older, she was still there—caring, worrying, and loving them just as fiercely as when they were young.
She was a sister in the truest sense—not just by blood, but by friendship. From the time they were little, she made sure her younger sisters were included, dragging them along wherever she went. As the years passed, that bond never broke. There were road trips, late-night conversations, and so much laughter—especially the kind that comes from shared memories of ridiculous mishaps, like the time the RV lost power in the middle of the night, or when the kids discovered their bathroom wasn’t hooked up quite as it should have been.
And Teri was the kind of person who made a house a home. If you ever came to one of her family gatherings, you probably noticed the sticky notes on the table—every dish had its assigned spot. She had a system, and it worked. And every Saturday morning, she was up early, baking muffins—not just for her family, but for the golf course crew at Spanish Wells. They affectionately called her “The Muffin Lady.” Because that’s what Teri did—she made sure people were cared for, whether through food, hospitality, or a well-placed sticky note to keep things running smoothly.
But today, we gather with heavy hearts. We feel the weight of her absence. We miss the warmth of her presence, the sound of her voice, the way she could turn a simple moment into something unforgettable.
And in this grief, we turn to the Gospel. We remember when Jesus stood before the tomb of His friend Lazarus. He knew He had the power to bring him back, and yet—before He did anything—He wept. He wept because grief is the price of love. And today, we weep because we loved deeply.
But just as Jesus did not leave Lazarus in the tomb, He does not leave us in despair. He reminds us that life is not ended, but changed. That love—the kind of love that was poured into every meal, every holiday gathering, every moment of selfless care—does not simply vanish. It continues. It continues in the husband who still hears her voice in the back of his mind, in the children who carry her lessons forward, in the sisters who still laugh at the memories that will never fade.
So yes, we grieve today. But we also hold onto hope. Hope that she is now in the arms of the God who made her, welcomed her home, and—let’s be honest—probably got a fresh batch of muffins the moment she arrived.
May we honor her life by living as she did—loving fully, giving generously, and, if we must, watering even the plastic plants.
Prayer of Commendation and Thanksgiving for Teri
Heavenly Father, we commend Teri to Your loving embrace,trusting in Your mercy and the promise of eternal life.We thank You for the gift of her life,for the love she so freely shared,for the kindness she showed,and for the joy she brought to those around her.
Lord, You walked with her in this life,guiding her through its joys and challenges.Now, as she rests in Your peace,may she know the fullness of Your presence,where there is no more pain, no more sorrow, only everlasting joy.
Comfort those who mourn her passing,fill their hearts with the hope of reunion in Your heavenly kingdom,and let her love continue to shine in the lives of all who knew her.
May perpetual light shine upon her,and may she rest in Your peace.
Through Christ our Lord. Amen.
Joseph L. Hassing Jr. 01-30-2025
There’s a story about a man who found his greatest joy in the simple things. You’d find him outside, working in the yard with a beer in his hand, soaking in the sun, watching over his home, and enjoying the peaceful rhythm of life. He was a man who didn’t need grand gestures to know he was blessed—his riches were found in his family, in his friends, and in the moments that many people overlook. That man is Joe.
Joe understood something that takes many of us a lifetime to learn—that life is made up of the small, everyday moments. He didn’t waste time chasing things that don’t last; instead, he invested in what truly matters—love, loyalty, and the relationships that give life meaning. That’s why we gather today not just with sorrow, but with deep gratitude. Because Joe gave us a gift—the gift of his presence, his love, his steady hand, and his unwavering kindness. And though we mourn his passing, we also celebrate the fullness of the life he lived.
“There is a Time for Everything”
The reading from Ecclesiastes reminds us: “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.” Joe’s life was filled with many seasons. There was a time to grow, as a young man in Ohio, where he built lifelong friendships. There was a time to love, when he met Mary—first as co-workers, then as best friends, and finally as husband and wife for nearly 46 years. There was a time to work, as he built a career with diligence and integrity, always thinking of the people under his care. And most importantly, there was a time to embrace—to be a husband, a father, a grandfather, a mentor, and a friend. Joe embraced life fully.
This passage reminds us that life is always changing. It reminds us that while we wish we could hold on forever, there comes a time to let go. But in letting go, we trust in something greater: that the love we share does not end, and that the God who gave Joe these beautiful seasons of life now welcomes him into a new season—one of eternal peace.
A Man of Steady Strength
Joe wasn’t the loudest voice in the room, but he didn’t need to be. His quiet strength spoke for itself. His children knew that no matter what life threw at them—big decisions, tough moments, or just tricky math homework—Dad was the one to turn to. He was the calm in the storm, the level-headed voice of reason. And, of course, Mary knew that if she really wanted something, all it took was a well-thought-out argument, complete with a business plan and bullet points, and eventually, Joe would see things her way.
Joe carried this same fairness and integrity into his work. He led with kindness, not power, and genuinely cared about the people around him. He once said he didn’t want to be a boss anymore because having to fire someone broke his heart. So, he switched to sales—where he could talk, build relationships, and never have to let anyone go. Classic Joe—always looking out for others.
A Legacy of Love
Joe’s true legacy isn’t in the career he built, but in the love he gave. His children, Paul, Brian, and Mary Kate, carry on his humor, wisdom, and steady nature. His grandchildren—Kayne, Barrett, and little Brody—may not have had years with him, but they will grow up with stories of their Grandpa Joe, who loved them long before they could remember.
Mary shared how, in these last weeks, little Barrett was always there to greet her with hugs when she came home from the hospital or memory care. That simple, unconditional love is the kind Joe gave so effortlessly. And love like that doesn’t fade—it lingers in the lessons he taught, the laughter he shared, and the many hearts he touched.
The Promise of Christ
Jesus tells us, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. In my Father’s house, there are many dwelling places.” This is our promise—Joe’s story isn’t over. He has simply moved into another room, one filled with peace, warmth, and, hopefully, a TV that always plays Browns games where they actually win.
And so, we say goodbye not with despair, but with hope. Hope that Joe is at peace, embraced by the love of God. Hope that his spirit lives on in the love he gave so generously. And hope that in the little things—the sight of a perfectly mowed lawn, the sound of waves hitting the shore, the laughter of his grandchildren, or even the friendly debates he so enjoyed—we will still feel his presence. Because love like Joe’s doesn’t disappear; it stays with us. It is woven into our lives, a steady and guiding force, reminding us that he is never truly gone. Prayer of Commendation and Gratitude
Heavenly Father,
With hearts full of gratitude, we commend Joe into Your loving care. We thank You for the many seasons of his life—for the friendships he nurtured, the family he cherished, the laughter he shared, and the example of love and loyalty he leaves behind. His presence was a gift, his love a blessing, and his memory a treasure that will live on in our hearts.
Comfort those who grieve his passing, especially his beloved Mary, his children, his grandchildren, and all who held him dear. Strengthen them in their sorrow and fill them with the hope of Your promise of eternal life. May they find peace in knowing that love never ends, and that one day, in Your divine mercy, we will all be reunited.
Loving Father, as we say our goodbyes, we entrust Joe into Your care with confidence, knowing that his life was a reflection of Your goodness. May he find rest in the place You have prepared for him, where joy is everlasting.
May his soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through Your mercy, rest in peace.
Amen.
Joe understood something that takes many of us a lifetime to learn—that life is made up of the small, everyday moments. He didn’t waste time chasing things that don’t last; instead, he invested in what truly matters—love, loyalty, and the relationships that give life meaning. That’s why we gather today not just with sorrow, but with deep gratitude. Because Joe gave us a gift—the gift of his presence, his love, his steady hand, and his unwavering kindness. And though we mourn his passing, we also celebrate the fullness of the life he lived.
“There is a Time for Everything”
The reading from Ecclesiastes reminds us: “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.” Joe’s life was filled with many seasons. There was a time to grow, as a young man in Ohio, where he built lifelong friendships. There was a time to love, when he met Mary—first as co-workers, then as best friends, and finally as husband and wife for nearly 46 years. There was a time to work, as he built a career with diligence and integrity, always thinking of the people under his care. And most importantly, there was a time to embrace—to be a husband, a father, a grandfather, a mentor, and a friend. Joe embraced life fully.
This passage reminds us that life is always changing. It reminds us that while we wish we could hold on forever, there comes a time to let go. But in letting go, we trust in something greater: that the love we share does not end, and that the God who gave Joe these beautiful seasons of life now welcomes him into a new season—one of eternal peace.
A Man of Steady Strength
Joe wasn’t the loudest voice in the room, but he didn’t need to be. His quiet strength spoke for itself. His children knew that no matter what life threw at them—big decisions, tough moments, or just tricky math homework—Dad was the one to turn to. He was the calm in the storm, the level-headed voice of reason. And, of course, Mary knew that if she really wanted something, all it took was a well-thought-out argument, complete with a business plan and bullet points, and eventually, Joe would see things her way.
Joe carried this same fairness and integrity into his work. He led with kindness, not power, and genuinely cared about the people around him. He once said he didn’t want to be a boss anymore because having to fire someone broke his heart. So, he switched to sales—where he could talk, build relationships, and never have to let anyone go. Classic Joe—always looking out for others.
A Legacy of Love
Joe’s true legacy isn’t in the career he built, but in the love he gave. His children, Paul, Brian, and Mary Kate, carry on his humor, wisdom, and steady nature. His grandchildren—Kayne, Barrett, and little Brody—may not have had years with him, but they will grow up with stories of their Grandpa Joe, who loved them long before they could remember.
Mary shared how, in these last weeks, little Barrett was always there to greet her with hugs when she came home from the hospital or memory care. That simple, unconditional love is the kind Joe gave so effortlessly. And love like that doesn’t fade—it lingers in the lessons he taught, the laughter he shared, and the many hearts he touched.
The Promise of Christ
Jesus tells us, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. In my Father’s house, there are many dwelling places.” This is our promise—Joe’s story isn’t over. He has simply moved into another room, one filled with peace, warmth, and, hopefully, a TV that always plays Browns games where they actually win.
And so, we say goodbye not with despair, but with hope. Hope that Joe is at peace, embraced by the love of God. Hope that his spirit lives on in the love he gave so generously. And hope that in the little things—the sight of a perfectly mowed lawn, the sound of waves hitting the shore, the laughter of his grandchildren, or even the friendly debates he so enjoyed—we will still feel his presence. Because love like Joe’s doesn’t disappear; it stays with us. It is woven into our lives, a steady and guiding force, reminding us that he is never truly gone. Prayer of Commendation and Gratitude
Heavenly Father,
With hearts full of gratitude, we commend Joe into Your loving care. We thank You for the many seasons of his life—for the friendships he nurtured, the family he cherished, the laughter he shared, and the example of love and loyalty he leaves behind. His presence was a gift, his love a blessing, and his memory a treasure that will live on in our hearts.
Comfort those who grieve his passing, especially his beloved Mary, his children, his grandchildren, and all who held him dear. Strengthen them in their sorrow and fill them with the hope of Your promise of eternal life. May they find peace in knowing that love never ends, and that one day, in Your divine mercy, we will all be reunited.
Loving Father, as we say our goodbyes, we entrust Joe into Your care with confidence, knowing that his life was a reflection of Your goodness. May he find rest in the place You have prepared for him, where joy is everlasting.
May his soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through Your mercy, rest in peace.
Amen.
Luke Bogacz 01-17-2025
We gather today with heavy hearts, united by the profound pain of loss but also by the enduring gift of love. We are here to honor and celebrate the life of Luke Timothy Bogacz—a young man who, in just 24 years, left a legacy that far exceeds the measure of time. Luke was a son, a brother, a grandson, a nephew, a cousin, a coworker, and a friend. Each of us here has been touched by his kindness, his humor, and his immense heart. Though his time with us feels far too brief, his life was full—full of love, laughter, and the deep connections he formed with so many.
Today, we commend Luke to God—the God who created him, sustained him, and now lovingly welcomes him home. As we begin this Mass, let us unite our hearts in faith, trusting in the boundless love and mercy of God, which are greater than any sorrow we carry. In the waters of baptism, Luke died in Christ; may he now share fully in His eternal glory.
Homily
There’s a story of a young man who loved the sea. Every evening, no matter how busy his day had been, he would find his way to the water’s edge to watch the sunset. For him, those moments weren’t just about beauty—they were about connection. In the glow of the horizon, he felt God’s presence, the embrace of creation, and a sense of belonging to something eternal.
That young man is Luke. In many ways, the sea and the sunset were reflections of who he was—vast in kindness, radiant in spirit, and full of life. Luke had a way of drawing people in, like a sunset calling you to pause, to marvel, and to feel something deep in your soul.
“Do not let your hearts be troubled,” Jesus says in John 14. “You have faith in God; have faith also in me. In my Father’s house, there are many dwelling places.” Today, as we mourn Luke’s passing, we hold on to this promise: that Luke is not lost, but has found his dwelling place with the Lord.
Jaime, you described Luke as having a huge heart and an old soul. From the time he was a boy, he could connect with people in a way that seemed almost otherworldly. Whether it was an uncle, a cousin, or a stranger, Luke made everyone feel seen, valued, and welcomed. Even his fifth-grade teacher noticed it—how Luke could hold a conversation as if he were an adult, navigating the complexities of life with wisdom far beyond his years.
Luke’s gift for connection wasn’t just about words; it was about presence. At family gatherings, he had a way of moving effortlessly from one person to the next, making each feel special, before quietly slipping away. He carried that same spirit to the marina, where he became a dependable friend and coworker. His coworkers spoke of his wit, kindness, and ability to brighten a day.
Luke lived with curiosity and passion—a Renaissance man, as his uncle described him. He loved the water, sunsets, boats, NASCAR, the Steelers, and even Chick-fil-A, where he became such a loyal customer that the corporate office took notice. He explored the world of cooking, firefighting, and even the history of crosses on firetrucks. Whatever Luke set his mind to, he pursued it with enthusiasm and depth.
In Isaiah 40:31, we hear these words: “Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary; they will walk and not be faint.” Luke faced challenges, but his strength came from his faith and his hope. Even when life wasn’t easy, he carried on with resilience, humor, and a heart full of generosity.
One of the most touching moments in Luke’s life came at his grandmother Mary Jane’s funeral, when he stood and promised to tell his younger cousins about her and how special she was. That promise speaks volumes about who Luke was—a young man who valued family, honored the past, and wanted to carry that love into the future.
Ecclesiastes 3 reminds us that there is “a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die…a time to weep and a time to laugh…a time to mourn and a time to dance.” Today is our time to mourn, but even in our sorrow, we find reasons to smile. We remember Luke’s laughter, his kindness, and the way he made the world a better place.
Luke’s favorite song, “Give Heaven Some Hell,” beautifully reflects the joy, authenticity, and depth he brought to life. Its lyrics speak to the bittersweetness of letting go, yet they also remind us of the hope that Luke is now in a place of eternal peace, surrounded by the beauty he loved. The song paints a heartfelt picture of Luke entering heaven just as he lived—kind, genuine, and full of passion for life—leaving an indelible mark on every soul he meets, just as he did here on earth.
As we say goodbye to Luke today, let us carry forward the love and light he gave to each of us. Let us remember his example of living fully, loving deeply, and finding God in the beauty around us.
And when we feel the weight of grief, let us hold on to Jesus’ words: “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” Luke is now with the Father, where he is surrounded by sunsets more beautiful than he ever imagined and waters more peaceful than the ones he loved.
Luke, you are deeply missed, but your spirit lives on in the lives you touched. Rest in the arms of the Lord, and until we meet again, give heaven some hell.
Prayer of commendation
As we say goodbye to Luke, let us hold on to the hope that this goodbye is not forever. Jesus promised, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” Luke knew that truth. He walked that way. And now he has life eternal with God.
Luke, your heart was as vast as the ocean you loved, and your soul as radiant as the sunsets you chased. You taught us to live with joy, to love without hesitation, and to connect deeply with everyone we meet.
Prayer of Commendation
Into your hands, O Lord,we commend your servant, Luke Timothy Bogacz,with the love of a family who treasures his memoryand the faith of a community who trusts in your mercy.We give thanks for the life he lived,for the love he shared,and for the joy he brought to so many.
Welcome him into your kingdom,where pain is no more,and joy is eternal.Grant him peace,and may the angels lead him into paradise.As he rests now in your loving care,help us to find comfort in your promises,until the day we are all reunited in your presence.
We ask this through Christ, our Lord.Amen.
Final comments
On behalf of myself and the entire St. Leo community, I want to extend our deepest sympathy to you, Jaime and Tim, to Max, and to all of Luke’s family and friends. We share in your grief and hold you close in our hearts during this difficult time.
I will always remember Luke as an altar server here at St. Leo. Even as a boy, he had a presence that was unique—wise beyond his years, dependable, and filled with a quiet strength. Luke wasn’t just serving at the altar; he was offering himself fully, with thoughtfulness and care that left a lasting impression on me and everyone who knew him.
His wisdom, kindness, respect and humor were gifts that touched so many lives. He made people feel seen and valued, and that’s something we will never forget. He wasn’t just a member of our community—he was a part of our family here at St. Leo.
Luke will be missed by all of us. His light, his faith, and his beautiful soul remain with us, and we will carry him in our hearts always. Please know that you are not alone—we are here for you, praying for you, and holding you close in this time of sorrow. May God’s love and comfort surround you now and in the days to come.
Today, we commend Luke to God—the God who created him, sustained him, and now lovingly welcomes him home. As we begin this Mass, let us unite our hearts in faith, trusting in the boundless love and mercy of God, which are greater than any sorrow we carry. In the waters of baptism, Luke died in Christ; may he now share fully in His eternal glory.
Homily
There’s a story of a young man who loved the sea. Every evening, no matter how busy his day had been, he would find his way to the water’s edge to watch the sunset. For him, those moments weren’t just about beauty—they were about connection. In the glow of the horizon, he felt God’s presence, the embrace of creation, and a sense of belonging to something eternal.
That young man is Luke. In many ways, the sea and the sunset were reflections of who he was—vast in kindness, radiant in spirit, and full of life. Luke had a way of drawing people in, like a sunset calling you to pause, to marvel, and to feel something deep in your soul.
“Do not let your hearts be troubled,” Jesus says in John 14. “You have faith in God; have faith also in me. In my Father’s house, there are many dwelling places.” Today, as we mourn Luke’s passing, we hold on to this promise: that Luke is not lost, but has found his dwelling place with the Lord.
Jaime, you described Luke as having a huge heart and an old soul. From the time he was a boy, he could connect with people in a way that seemed almost otherworldly. Whether it was an uncle, a cousin, or a stranger, Luke made everyone feel seen, valued, and welcomed. Even his fifth-grade teacher noticed it—how Luke could hold a conversation as if he were an adult, navigating the complexities of life with wisdom far beyond his years.
Luke’s gift for connection wasn’t just about words; it was about presence. At family gatherings, he had a way of moving effortlessly from one person to the next, making each feel special, before quietly slipping away. He carried that same spirit to the marina, where he became a dependable friend and coworker. His coworkers spoke of his wit, kindness, and ability to brighten a day.
Luke lived with curiosity and passion—a Renaissance man, as his uncle described him. He loved the water, sunsets, boats, NASCAR, the Steelers, and even Chick-fil-A, where he became such a loyal customer that the corporate office took notice. He explored the world of cooking, firefighting, and even the history of crosses on firetrucks. Whatever Luke set his mind to, he pursued it with enthusiasm and depth.
In Isaiah 40:31, we hear these words: “Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary; they will walk and not be faint.” Luke faced challenges, but his strength came from his faith and his hope. Even when life wasn’t easy, he carried on with resilience, humor, and a heart full of generosity.
One of the most touching moments in Luke’s life came at his grandmother Mary Jane’s funeral, when he stood and promised to tell his younger cousins about her and how special she was. That promise speaks volumes about who Luke was—a young man who valued family, honored the past, and wanted to carry that love into the future.
Ecclesiastes 3 reminds us that there is “a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die…a time to weep and a time to laugh…a time to mourn and a time to dance.” Today is our time to mourn, but even in our sorrow, we find reasons to smile. We remember Luke’s laughter, his kindness, and the way he made the world a better place.
Luke’s favorite song, “Give Heaven Some Hell,” beautifully reflects the joy, authenticity, and depth he brought to life. Its lyrics speak to the bittersweetness of letting go, yet they also remind us of the hope that Luke is now in a place of eternal peace, surrounded by the beauty he loved. The song paints a heartfelt picture of Luke entering heaven just as he lived—kind, genuine, and full of passion for life—leaving an indelible mark on every soul he meets, just as he did here on earth.
As we say goodbye to Luke today, let us carry forward the love and light he gave to each of us. Let us remember his example of living fully, loving deeply, and finding God in the beauty around us.
And when we feel the weight of grief, let us hold on to Jesus’ words: “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” Luke is now with the Father, where he is surrounded by sunsets more beautiful than he ever imagined and waters more peaceful than the ones he loved.
Luke, you are deeply missed, but your spirit lives on in the lives you touched. Rest in the arms of the Lord, and until we meet again, give heaven some hell.
Prayer of commendation
As we say goodbye to Luke, let us hold on to the hope that this goodbye is not forever. Jesus promised, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” Luke knew that truth. He walked that way. And now he has life eternal with God.
Luke, your heart was as vast as the ocean you loved, and your soul as radiant as the sunsets you chased. You taught us to live with joy, to love without hesitation, and to connect deeply with everyone we meet.
Prayer of Commendation
Into your hands, O Lord,we commend your servant, Luke Timothy Bogacz,with the love of a family who treasures his memoryand the faith of a community who trusts in your mercy.We give thanks for the life he lived,for the love he shared,and for the joy he brought to so many.
Welcome him into your kingdom,where pain is no more,and joy is eternal.Grant him peace,and may the angels lead him into paradise.As he rests now in your loving care,help us to find comfort in your promises,until the day we are all reunited in your presence.
We ask this through Christ, our Lord.Amen.
Final comments
On behalf of myself and the entire St. Leo community, I want to extend our deepest sympathy to you, Jaime and Tim, to Max, and to all of Luke’s family and friends. We share in your grief and hold you close in our hearts during this difficult time.
I will always remember Luke as an altar server here at St. Leo. Even as a boy, he had a presence that was unique—wise beyond his years, dependable, and filled with a quiet strength. Luke wasn’t just serving at the altar; he was offering himself fully, with thoughtfulness and care that left a lasting impression on me and everyone who knew him.
His wisdom, kindness, respect and humor were gifts that touched so many lives. He made people feel seen and valued, and that’s something we will never forget. He wasn’t just a member of our community—he was a part of our family here at St. Leo.
Luke will be missed by all of us. His light, his faith, and his beautiful soul remain with us, and we will carry him in our hearts always. Please know that you are not alone—we are here for you, praying for you, and holding you close in this time of sorrow. May God’s love and comfort surround you now and in the days to come.